Yssha's Tale III: Dovahjud
by empire1003
Summary: Written with Cyclone Sword. The Second Great War is over, the Thalmor defeated. But Yssha and Marcurio angered Hermaeus Mora even before Alduin was defeated, and their actions since have angered others. They can't do anything permanent to her, so those she cares about have become targets. Can she change that?
1. A changed Dovahkiin

Author's Note: If you haven't read the first two volumes of Yssha's Tale, Dovahkiin and Stormcrown, I'd recommend you do so, as this is a direct continuation.

* * *

Chapter 1 - A Changed Dovahkiin

21 First Seed, 5E 3

The next morning, Marcurio showed her the note and advertisement. "I'm so sorry, love ... but the flyer was distributed Tamriel-wide, so everyone knows you were turned into a prostitute for the Thalmor, and ... well, Odahviing says you really would enjoy it - couldn't help it, being dovahin."

Yssha sighed. "He was right. I did, very much, and ... I will miss it. I am the sorry one, beloved, but ... I now desire others as well as you."

"Not love, though."

"No, no, not at all!, you are still alone, there. But any man I do not actively dislike, I cannot help wondering about." She sighed. "And one of my times in Stormhaven, Talos said I should ... flaunt my promiscuity. Nothing really that blatant or indiscreet, but like my new armor."

Marcurio kissed her nose. "You'll have plenty of opportunity, love. There are plenty who're sure they can do more for you than, and I quote, 'any Thalmor spawn of Oblivion'. And they want to prove it to you."

"Oh, dear." Yssha sighed again. "Well, I was told so, yes. But I regret that it will be difficult for you."

"I've lived with it for two weeks," Marcurio reminded her. "I'm pretty well over my anger, at least in general, but I could wish you hadn't made Ungarion and Nerissa's deaths so easy. Seridur I'm not sure about, if we ever find him."

"Remember he is the one who ended the torture, beloved," Yssha said. "Perhaps not in a way either of us would prefer, but I am grateful to him nevertheless. Being a slave-whore is far better than being repeatedly skinned or having joints crushed or teeth and claws pulled out. Even with dragons acting as buffers against the pain."

"Yeah, I guess it would be. Okay, he gets to live." Marcurio heaved a sigh. "I guess I can't even hate him for it, either. From what Odahviing said, the damage was done the first time they gang-raped you."

Yssha nodded. "I experienced that as Lokmoroyol's first mating flight, so even that was ... not unpleasant."

Marcurio cursed, sounding more resigned than angry. "I ... well. I think I half-expected something like this, when you relayed what she told you about dragon mating." He began caressing her. "So I worked my way through the possibilities. And prayed. It doesn't hurt as much as I expected." He slid his hand between her legs, grinning as she squirmed against him, already moist. "Well, I do see one advantage ... "

* * *

When he finished, he kept holding her close - this might be easier that way. "So that's your dragon nature at play, and you want more." He kissed her. "It's clear I'm no match for you any more, love, and you can't deny a drive that strong without hurting yourself. So indulge yourself, with my blessing."

Yssha snuggled close, blinking away tears. "Beloved ... I am sorry!"

"Nothing to apologize for, love. It's not like it's something you wanted, or did deliberately. It was enemy action that left you permanently changed - I can't even honestly say damaged, even though it's how I feel, since it's perfectly normal for a dragon. It's just a shame that not everyone'll see it that way."

"Do you think anyone will, other than you?"

"Oh, sure - the Legion and Skyguard understand, at least. I'm not saying you won't get teased, like someone who got shot in the rear, and I'm sure you'll get some pretty crude propositions ... but the dragons have made it known that your 'misfortune' hasn't damaged your standing with them at all - has raised it, in fact."

* * *

It was Yssha, Marcurio, and Odahviing who met with Paarthurnax atop Monahven. Yssha bowed politely. "Drem yol lok, Zokwuth.[Eldest] I wish your advice, if I may."

"That is overly formal, dii jud, but of course you may. What is it?"

"The most important is that my Shouts seem to be becoming stronger." Yssha sighed. "When I used 'Fus' to open a door, it shattered into splinters instead. And a 'Yol' to simply kill a Thalmor turned him into ash, bone and all, instead."

"Is there anything else?"

"One other thing that bothers me, zokwuth zeymah." Yssha paused. "When I was being rescued, I blessed any innocent prisoners in the Thalmor palace's sub-basement dungeon, and it seemed to be effective."

"Vazah? Truly?" Paarthurnax looked disturbed. "Are you sure it was _your_ blessing you gave them?"

Yssha thought back. "Reasonably sure. At least I do not remember invoking Talos, Bormahu, or any other Divine."

"Hmm. Then I fear you are asking the wrong person." Paarthurnax looked thoughtful. "You did choose immortality in Mundus over divinity ... yet you are worshipped, have your own realm in Aetherius, and now you tell me your Thu'um, already strong enough for you to conquer Alduin, is becoming more powerful."

"She also has shrines that function identically to those of the Nine," Odahviing added. "Now it seems her personal blessings have gained in power as well. I wonder if perhaps Bormahu plans something for her that requires divine or near-divine power."

"But what could that be?" Marcurio asked. "And why?" He shivered, not from the cold his armor insulated him against. "So much has happened to her already - how could he ask even more of her? That is simply _wrong_!"

Yssha sighed. "You have all made me think, which is good. Beloved, what if it is not a demand, but a gift I must be stronger to accept?"

The frustration in Marcurio's voice was evident. "But what? Like Paarthurnax said, you were strong enough to defeat Alduin months ago. How could you not be strong enough for whatever else he wants?"

"I cannot know Bormahu's mind," Yssha said softly. "I could, perhaps, guess, from what my soul-sibs have implied from time to time ... but that is all it would be, a guess."

"So guess, dearling. Even a hint would be nice."

"Well ... I would guess, then, that he wishes me to become the first Aedric shape-shifter. The Daedra have two, but both are close to the size of their normal forms. If I am correct, my other form would not be."

"Right the first time," Talos said, materializing. He chuckled. "You have to be a lot stronger before you'll be able to support the change of size and weight. And that requires the kind of worship that allowed me to become a Divine."

Yssha hissed and spat a couple of curses she didn't even remember learning. When she was done with that, she snarled. "All right. Being able to become a dragon would please my soul-sibs, and please at least some of my vahrinne. But I still do not wish to become a Divine."

"That isn't necessary," Talos assured her. "A ... semi-divine, I suppose you could say. Any mana your worshippers provide beyond that, Bormahu will channel to maintenance of your status or ours. But it will be some time yet before the power channeled to you is enough for your first transformation."

"I will not encourage such worship," Yssha said stubbornly. "The idea of becoming were-dovah is intriguing in a way, but I still find the idea of being worshiped distasteful. If I could forbid it, I would."

Talos shrugged. "We know that. But you don't feel anything from it, or sense the petitions as you would if you were a true Divine, and that won't change; I'll still respond to those as you would if you did ascend."

Yssha's surprise was evident. "You are doing that for me?"

He chuckled. "Prayers to you do use one or more of the names we share, so I hear them, and respond if it's appropriate. It might be different if they used your birth-name, or Bormahu might channel it to me anyway, but no one does. It isn't a problem; in fact, over the centuries, it's become something I enjoy doing. Of course, I had a lot of practice handling petitions during my lifetime, so that part wasn't too much of a change."

"I very much appreciate that, zeymah." Yssha sighed. "I should not complain, truly. I know this is Bormahu's will, and I accept that. But it is sometimes difficult."

"We know that, too - especially now, with your tempering barely over, and trying to cope with a reputation you think has been destroyed. In that one particular, it's too bad you were raised more Imperial than Khajiit."

That confused her. "What do you mean?"

Paarthurnax snorted a laugh, startling her. "My younger brother has a point, briinah. You do know what 'honorific' means, of course."

"It is a title or way of addressing one that indicates respect or high status," Yssha replied.

"And 'La' is a Khajiiti honorific," the dovah said. "I am sure you know what it means."

"'Promiscuous maiden', yes." Her ear-tips burned. "But ... maiden is an unmarried woman, and I am married. To a man I love very much, I might add."

Talos and Paarthurnax exchanged glances, and it was the dragon who replied. "Briinahi, both we dov and the Khajiit culture consider a promiscuous female praiseworthy. It is true that humans and most elves have the opposite opinion ... so your reputation has been lowered among some, but raised with others. Think about that, malbriinah."

Yssha was silent, just bowed her head for a moment. When she looked up, she nodded. "I will, dii zeymahhe. I promise that."

"And when you are able to change," Odahviing said, "there will be considerable competition to be your First as a dovah, and I will certainly be among them. It is about time that we males will have the opportunity to mate our thur."

"Ahh ... you do know Lokmoroyol and several of my other female soul-guests shared memories of their favorite sky-dances to protect me from the rapes - ?"

"I was sure they would, but why do you ask?"

"Because Alduin's top lieutenants were prominent in those memories. One of Lokmoroyol's favorites was when you fathered one of her dragonets." And that reminded her - "Oh! Fusmulgar - has she laid her egg yet?"

Odahviing's reply was unmistakably smug. "Eggs, plural," he corrected. "Four of them. She is brooding them in Eastmarch now."

"Four!" Yssha exclaimed, feeling equal incredulity from her three waking soul-sibs. Two at a time was rare; four was unprecedented. "Bormahu must be incredibly pleased with her!"

"With both of them, actually," Talos said with a chuckle. "Her for her cooperation with Farengar - who's with her, by the way - and Odahviing for taking you as thur without hesitation when Alduin was defeated, and for providing the example of allowing a rider, being your wings until you gain your own."

"I did not know that," Odahviing said, clearly pleased. "Both seemed only natural."

"And that's another reason," Talos said. "You both carried out his will, without knowing what it was, and did it gladly. So you pleased him greatly."

* * *

Yssha settled into Marcurio's arms, enjoying his cuddling and petting. "Scratch behind my right ear, please? I think I need to renew my anti-flea spell."

He obliged, then said, "Let me," and cast a long term kill-insects spell on her.

She sighed in relief. "Thank you, beloved - that is nice."

"Something we'll both have to cast more regularly, once our son is born. That's the only bad part of having a full coat of body-fur. At least that I can think of, not having more than a bit of body-hair myself."

"Yes, a horrid lack, my bare-skinned beloved," she said, and chuckle-purred. "Shall I give you a full pelt?"

"Argh, no!" Marcurio snorted. "A beard can itch badly enough - I don't need that all over! But thanks for the offer, I think. But that reminds me - what are you planning for the pelts Nerissa took from you?"

"Finish tanning the two still on racks," she replied, then shrugged. "Other than that, I have no idea. I am unsure why I bothered retrieving them, aside from the fact they were taken from me, and are mine. If you think of anything, tell me, please."

"Of course. In the meantime, shall we?"

"Of course, beloved."


	2. Catching up 2

.

Chapter 2 - Catching Up 2

23 First Seed, 5E 3

Lakeview Manor:

Valerica had come to Lakeview Manor the day after Serana's maiming, sharing the nursing duties when Nevan wasn't caring for her himself. She'd been horrified by the injury at first, but after over four thousand years of undeath, she was able to adapt quickly. And now, two days later, Serana was able to sit up in bed and help with her own care. She and Nevan were already making plans to devise an artificial leg for her that was better than a simple peg.

"It'll take some getting used to, for both of us," she was saying. "Thanks to all the healing, I'm in no pain, and it'll be a couple more days, I think, before I'm ready for sex, but losing a leg certainly isn't going to keep me from having your children, now that the war's over."

Nevan chuckled. "Don't rush it, love. I've got plenty of sparring partners, you know. Yssha's going to be trying to get pregnant, too, you know. Depending on how long it takes her, we could have a baby mini-boom here."

* * *

Later that day, Grams drew Yssha and Marcurio aside. "You're pregnant," she informed her greats-granddaughter. "Haven't you told anyone yet? Or didn't you know?"

"We do know, and have chosen not to tell anyone for a week or so," Yssha replied. "You smell it already?"

Grams smiled. "I've known your scent for your entire life, child. Yes, I smelled it. I'll keep quiet until you're ready to let the news out, but tell me one thing - are you happy about it?"

"Very, very happy, Grams." Yssha smiled. "Bormah promised I could have a kit after the war was over. He kept that promise the night I got home. I do not know how long a Khajiit-human cross takes for gestation, but ... will you try to be here for the birth? And my parents?"

Grams grinned widely. "Just try to keep us away! I'll midwife you myself - I've plenty of experience - but you might want to get Danica or - no, he's following Fusmulgar's. Get Danica to document your pregnancy; as far as I know, yours is the first authenticated inter-species pregnancy."

Yssha sighed. "All right, if you think I should. But I am tired of being regarded as a curiosity or object of study. After all, I am the Last Dragonborn - though I suppose there could be more Khajiit/Human hybrids." She sighed. "All right. I will take Odahviing to Whiterun tomorrow afternoon."

Grams smiled. "Good. And ... don't worry too much about that Last Dragonborn prophecy. It was in an Elder Scroll, and they're known to change without notice to us mere mortals."

"That is true," Yssha said.

* * *

Alinor City:

Andreius rose from his chair as the young King Imiril entered his office and bowed. "Welcome, Your Highness. I'm sorry to be late today, but ... you know."

Imiril returned the bow, with a sigh. "Yes, your injured friend. Is she well?"

"As well as possible with a missing leg," Andreius said. "She and her husband are planning on how to work around the problem."

Imiril hesitated. "Would it be taken wrong if I sent official regrets?"

"I think it would be taken well," Andreius replied. "They aren't inclined to be vengeful, at least not against youngsters. And, no offense intended, but you're barely up to the Nord age of responsibility, years away from what the mer consider so."

Imiril sighed. "You are right, but I wish you wouldn't remind me. I have the title of King, but neither the experience nor the ... maturity for that position." The boy sighed again. "I consider myself fortunate to have you as my advisor, and Military Governor of what I'm still allowed to call my realm."

Andreius smiled. "You're mature enough to realize you're not fully mature, which is a very good sign indeed. Just based on that, I'm pretty sure you'll be a good king. And clearly, I'll help you as much as I can."

The young King smiled. "I'll do my best, and I really appreciate your help. Now, what's on today's agenda? And don't bother with formality, please, in private. Unless you'd rather, of course," he added hastily.

"All right - you'll get your fill of formality in public." Andreius grinned. "Today's agenda is the specific terms of your surrender. The Empire, of course, wants it unconditional, with the Thalmor disbanded and Alinor and Valenwood back in the Empire."

Imiril smiled. "I can give that order, but the Thalmor's as much a religious thing as it is political. So it probably won't be any more effective than ordering the Empire to stop all Talos worship."

Andreius laughed. "And we won't be sending in enforcers to monitor beliefs, just actions. We know better than to think we can stop religious beliefs. But the order will be enough, and as your people get to know the Legionnaires and Skyguard, attitudes will change. Gradually, probably, but ... Elven lives can be long, and human memories short. It'll sort itself out."

"Will I ... have to go to Imperial City to sign surrender documents?"

Andreius studied the boy. "Probably. Why? Does the idea bother you?"

Imiril grinned. "No, that part I've gotten used to over the last couple of days. It's just - can I ride a dragon?"

Andreius did his best to hide a laugh at that. "You'd want to ride one, after what they did to your city?"

Imiril nodded. "They destroyed it, to get their Queen and Overlord back, which any loyal subjects would do, and can't be faulted for. But then they put out their own fires, and rescued a great many of my people. I ... have nothing against dragons. They're honorable ... uh, people?"

Andreius smiled. "Wiser than your years, Your Highness. Yes, they're people, sort of - you do know they're immortal, right?"

"Yes. Sons and ... maybe ... daughters of Akatosh." Imiril frowned. "But that would mean ... "

"You have no evidence of descent from the Aedra, just faith. The dovah know they are children of Akatosh, since all dovahsille - dragon souls - come directly from Him." Andreius paused, then grinned. "Yes, there are female dovah, the dovahin. One of them is brooding a clutch of eggs, up in the Eastmarch hot springs; Akatosh blessed her with offspring for cooperating with the Court Mage of Whiterun."

"And the Dragonborn ... I really don't know much about her. I saw her once, after the torture was stopped, but I wasn't allowed to talk to her. Does being Dragonborn really mean she has a dragon soul? That seems impossible."

"It's true, though. She has a lot of them, actually, but she was born with one, yes. The rest come from dragons she's killed."

Imiril shook his head. "I don't understand that, at all," he confessed. "Or how she came to be co-ruler of the Empire - how a realm can have two rulers, even."

Andreius chuckled. "With anyone else, it probably wouldn't work," he said. "She has no interest in really ruling, so she usually only shows up at the Imperial Palace when she needs to talk to the Emperor or on ceremonial occasions. Oblivion, she only shows up at her own palace in Helgen maybe once a week. She actually lives at Lakeview Manor, close to Lake Ilinalta."

"I'd like to talk to her some day," Imiril said wistfully. "She's strange, but I think I might like her."

"Most people do," Andreius said. "She'll probably be at the surrender ceremony; if you'd like, I'll ask if she'd be willing to set aside a bit of time for you then."

"Yes, please." Imiril looked thoughtful. "The way I was raised, I should think her a horrible monster, but somehow I can't. Not after seeing her naked and helpless, and knowing what she'd been through, was still going through."

Andreius smiled gently. The boy had changed for the better, just in the few days they'd been together, and Imiril away from Thalmor influence. He was still apprehensive about Argonians, but treated men and Khajiit at least politely. He seemed most comfortable around the mer, but that was natural, and he couldn't fault the boy for it, or for his obvious fascination with the few Odmer he met.

* * *

24 First Seed, 5E 3

Yssha entered Whiterun with Grams at one side, and Whitefur at the other. Adrianne was at her forge, so she stopped by to say hello and introduce everyone, then went next door to Breezehome, where she saw Lydia at the door, smiling. "I thought I heard dragon wings, and hoped it was you - come in, please! I brought little Yssha to visit her relatives at Drangonsreach, and some friends."

Yssha returned the smile, and they followed her former housecarl inside, to be greeted by a squealing - and not terribly coordinated - toddler. "An'ie Yssha! Hol'me!"

Yssha obliged, smiling. "You are growing nicely, little one." She made her way to one of the chairs by the firepit, and turned to Lydia. "This is not to be public knowledge yet, but I am here to see Danica Purespring - " she glanced at the toddler, who was talking now as well, and decided it might be best to talk around her reason. "Ah, let us just say for the same reason you visited her so often. Though not for the same reason, obviously."

It took Lydia a few seconds to catch on, then she grinned. "Congratulations, my Thane. Yssha, quit that!"

Whitefur did his best to look dignified, not easy when a toddler had hold of his tail. He twisted around to lick the kitten's hand, but when she grabbed his whiskers and pulled, he let out a yowl. When she let go, startled, he jumped off the lap and settled on the far side of the firepit.

"I _am_ sorry, Whitefur," Lydia said.

The Alfiq nodded soberly, went to briefly lick her hand, and returned to his position.

"So," Lydia asked. "We heard ... are you all right? And it's Marcurio's?"

"Yes, and yes." Yssha smiled. "Inter-species requires either special spells or divine intervention. This is something Bormah promised me some time ago."

* * *

When she climbed the steps to the Wind District, Yssha smiled to hear Heimskr's normal preaching. It wasn't because she particularly liked either Heimskr or the preaching, but it was normal, and that in itself was pleasant.

And the new Gildergreen was as tall as the previous one, and budding - as the Eldergleam had promised it would be, come Spring. Maurice Jondrelle was sitting with his back against the trunk, smiling softly, eyes closed, until she neared.

Then he opened his eyes and his smile grew wider. "It's good to see you again, Dragonborn. Isn't it wonderful!"

Yssha smiled. "It is, indeed. You have done well, tending it."

"So She has told me." Maurice smiled. "I am to go to the Eldergleam next, and tend to it for some time. She will welcome you to Her winds, when the time arrives."

"Which I will thank Her for," Yssha replied politely, then she entered the Temple, to find Danica waiting for her.

The priestess smiled. "You've done very well for Kynareth and Her Temple, Dragonborn. Now I understand there is something we can do for you?"

"Yes, there is. Not something I particularly care for, but it may help others later. Do you have a private area where we may speak?"

"My quarters. Follow me." Yshha, Grams, and Whitefur did so, and Danica took a chair, while the other three sat on her bed. "Now, what may I do for you?"

"This must remain private until I choose to reveal it," Yssha said. When Danica nodded, she continued. "I am happily pregnant, by my husband. I understand it might be well to have an inter-species pregnancy monitored, if only to aid any subsequent ones, though I am less than happy about that prospect."

Danica's breath caught. "Yes ... yes, that would be important. You're certain it's inter-species? That's never been confirmed ... "

"Quite sure," Yssha said with a purr. "But check for yourself; I am here so an experienced Healer can monitor it from the beginning."

Danica did so, looking surprised. "Yes, you are pregnant, with a part-human, part-Khajiit child. At the moment, he appears healthy, but I'd like to see you at no more than one-week intervals, since this is unprecedented."

Yssha sighed. "All right. How about after my weekly audiences in Helgen? That way I am less likely to forget. In the meantime, I need to regain the strength and training edge I lost during my captivity. Do you have any objections?"

"To exercise?" Danica grinned. "No, not at this stage. It'll help with the birth, in fact. Though I may ask you to slow down, later on, when your body starts getting clumsier."

"I will follow your advice," Yssha assured her. "And ... marital relations?"

The priestess grinned. "Safe until your water breaks. Though while you're going through the early-pregnancy nausea and other discomfort, you probably won't want to. Just don't Shout at him, or you'll regret it later."

Yssha sighed. "My dragon side is not so blind. And he is safe from my Shouts anyway." She hesitated. "Though during labor and delivery, I believe I will have myself gagged, to protect everyone else. I prefer not to have my tongue removed again."

Danica and Grams both chuckled. "That might not be a bad idea," Grams said. "You'll probably be in pain, though my line has a history of fairly easy pregnancy and birth. And you have a couple of Divines who bend the rules for you from time to time. If Divines have rules, that is."


	3. Surrender

AN: **Jarius** : Because when I tried publishing professionally, my type of writing wasn't commercially viable, and this was well before Amazon's self-publishing. But you can find a bit of my independent stuff, if you're interested, at Gutenberg dot org, search Ann Wilson Terran Empire. Oh, and please give me a way to reach you privately, so I can answer without distracting other readers.

* * *

Chapter 3 - Surrender

26 First Seed, 5E 3

Yssha waited quietly with the Emperor and Marcurio in His Majesty's office. Andreius had said King Imiril would like to speak to her, and the Emperor thought an informal talk before the formal surrender might be a good idea, especially if he joined in. Andreius had also cautioned them that while Imiril was more mature than he'd expected, at least where his responsibilities were concerned, in other things he was more like a ten-year-old human boy.

It was hard to reconcile that with the tall, young-adult-looking Altmer who was escorted in, along with Andreius and Sorcalin, but she'd promised herself to keep it in mind. When Andreius had completed the introductions and the two of them were seated, she smiled at the youngster. "My Family thanks you for your message, Highness. It was a most generous thing for you to do. For what it may be worth, I regret your loss as well ... for your sake, and that of your remaining family."

"Thank you, Dovahkiin. But he wasn't really much of a husband or father." Imiril grimaced. "Andreius - uh, General Hargan - tells me that I was well trained for rule, but otherwise ... " he shrugged. "I can't say I'll really miss him."

Yssha winced inwardly. That was a harsher judgement against the mer than her own. But it meant the youthful King should get over his loss fairly quickly. "How was your trip from Alinor?"

The young Altmer's face lit up. "It was wonderful! We flew here on Durnehviir, and now I know six words of Dovahzul ... maybe eight, I'm not sure if dovah and zul count."

"They do," she assured him. "You wish to learn our language?"

"Who wouldn't? Oblivion - excuse me - if I didn't have to be King, I can't imagine wanting to be anything but a dragon rider, and they have to know the language."

Andreius chuckled. "Master Sorcalin and I've been learning, Highness - we'll teach you, or Durnehviir can teach all of us."

"YES!" The boy-King was obviously gleeful, and the Emperor chuckled.

"You don't sound too disappointed to be integrated into the Empire, Highness. At least as long as it involves dragons."

Imiril sobered. "Majesty, you may not believe me, but it's a relief. My father made sure I was kept informed, and even though I couldn't say it, I knew it was only a matter of time before we were brought back in. The First Great War was over long before I was born. studying it as history, I realized it was a huge mistake, and would be reversed. At least the Second Great War only cost us one city, instead of all of Alinor and Valenwood being completely devastated."

Yssha and Titus exchanged glances, and he nodded. "I see what General Hargan meant about you, Highness. I could almost regret having to put you through the surrender ceremony."

Imiril grinned. "Don't regret it - make use of it instead, if you can think of some way to get Morrowind back in."

Yssha chuckle-purred. "Highness ... you sound as pro-Empire as any I've heard - and you were raised by Thalmor."

"I was indeed." Imiril rose and began pacing. "But ... remember some time ago, when Talos spoke even to us?"

"Of course," Yssha replied. "I was in His Temple in Windhelm, and it was only a short time later that Franken Hard-head pledged to me and I named him head of what became the Skyguard."

"Yes. We were told it was Talos' ghost, but it didn't feel to me like a ghost - it was much too strong for that." He paused. "I never dared to say anything before, you know. But I knew it had to be either a Divine or a Daedric Prince, and there was no ... I don't quite know how to put this."

"Perhaps I can help," Yssha said. "I have dealt with both Daedra and Divines. There is a distinctive difference in what I suppose you could call 'feel' between them. Even the most benevolent of the Princes have a certain arrogance and desire for dominance, where the Divines are benevolent but more remote."

Imiril nodded eagerly. "That's it! There was no arrogance or the other about him. And I know both very well, thanks to the Thalmor. I can't say I started worshiping him, but ... I knew what I'd been taught about him was wrong."

The Emperor chuckled. "It's a good thing you didn't, at least openly, and it'd be unwise to do so even now. But at least you know the truth."

Imiril nodded, and changed the subject. "I know this is supposed to be about the surrender, but it'll be what you want - unconditional - so can I ask about other things, if there's time?"

"Certainly," Yssha replied. "We made time, since you wanted to talk; the ceremony will not be until after lunch."

"What's on your mind?" the Emperor asked.

"Two things, mostly. First, I became King the instant my father died, but I'm going to need to be crowned. Next, I'm going to need an heir, and my sibs ... well, I don't think any of them would be acceptable."

"I think you got those backward," the Emperor said. "Your Heir is more important than your coronation, and from General Hargan's reports, you're right about your sibs. So I'd recommend that you find yourself a woman and take care of the job yourself."

Imiril flushed. "I'm several years too young to marry by our custom, Your Majesty," he objected. "And our rulers must be legitimate."

"Then do what I did, and legitimate him or her once you're old enough to marry the mother," the Emperor said with a shrug. "Though I was old enough; the marriage didn't happen for other reasons. But Gaius is my son by the woman who's now my wife. Nothing in Imperial law against doing it that way."

"Um." Imiril's flush got a bit deeper, and Yssha hid a chuckle. "Yes, I suppose that would be possible. Would she have to be Altmer?"

Andreius chuckled. "Thinking about Arenim, Highness?"

Imiril couldn't blush any harder, so he gave his Imperial Advisor a scowl that gradually relaxed. And then, very slowly, he nodded. "She's beautiful, she's exotic, and she rides a dragon. And I don't think she hates me."

Yssha looked at Andreius curiously. "Odmer? Or human?"

"Odmer," Andreius replied. "One of the Skyguard assigned to his bodyguard. Rides Odkiinbrii, solo."

Yssha decided to take pity on the boy. "No, mixed race is perfectly acceptable. Crown Prince Gaius is Imperial and Redguard; my own heir will be Khajiit and Imperial. So court your exotic beauty, Highness, and may Mara bless you both."

A brilliant smile was her reward. "Thank you, Dovahkiin - I'll be more than happy to do so."

 _And he will be successful_ , a silent voice assured her. That made Yssha smile, but she didn't say anything except, "Treat her well, please. I have a certain affection for those I have been privileged to Restore."

"Oh, I will," Imiril assured her. "My mother gave me a concubine for my fifteenth name-day, with orders to teach me how to please a woman. She's benefited from her own lessons, she told me, and she went on to found her own pleasure-house. I hope she survived the attack."

"Then for your sake, I hope she did as well." Yssha sighed. "I could wish my vahrinne had been less thorough, though dovah know little of restraint when angered."

"We noticed," Imiril said drily. "But we've already started rebuilding - or at least cleaning up the mess - with their help. And hard as it is to believe, the youngsters are starting to think the dragons are the next things to gods."

"NID!" That sent a shock of horror through Yssha, and her denial was a Thu'um that shook the Palace.

The next thing she knew, she was in Marcurio's arms, and he was soothing her. "Easy, dearling, easy. He didn't mean anything by that, I'm sure."

Yssha shuddered. "No dragon-worship, please!" She shook herself free and rose to her full height, unimposing as that was. "The worship of dragons is what caused the enslavement of vodov that led to the Dragon War. That must never happen again."

"But, Stormcrown," the Emperor protested. "You are worshiped!"

"Because Talos told me I could not prevent it. But I dislike it, rather than encouraging it." She turned back to Imiril. "Discourage it as strongly as you can, please - I do not wish to have to kill any more of my kin."

"I'll do my best," Imiril promised, soberly.

* * *

After Yssha calmed herself, and apologized for her involuntary Thu'um, they adjourned for lunch. It was a pleasant meal, and Yssha was pleased to see the Emperor and young Altmer king seemed to enjoy each other's company.

Then they split up to get ready for the audience that would double as Imiril's surrender ceremony. As with the Hammerfell reunification ceremony, Yssha and Titus took their thrones before a signing table, but the throne room was much fuller this time - Jarls from Skyrim and Kings or Queens from every other province of the Empire, most with at least one courtier.

When Imiril was admitted, he was almost as pale as the Odmer at his side, but he approached without hesitation, and bowed. "Your Majesties' reception is most gracious, and I thank you."

That got murmurs from the audience, mostly about his youth and proper attitude.

Emperor and Stormcrown stood, and Titus smiled. "We understand Your Highness wishes to offer your formal surrender."

"Correct, Majesties. The Aldmeri Dominion was defeated in honest combat, physical and magical, although your allies were ... unexpected."

"Not allies," Yssha said softly. "The dovah are Imperial citizens, and have been since Odahviing and the rest swore fealty to me."

Imiril sighed. "All right. I've already told Your Majesties that the Dominion's surrender is unconditional. What more must I do?"

"The surrender documents are on the table. You sign them, then we do, and it will be official." He paused. "Then you must take an oath of fealty to the Empire as a whole, or to the Emperor or Stormcrown personally, though you may wait a day or two for the latter, if you need to decide."

Imiril nodded, and sat at the table to sign the documents, then rose and watched while Emperor and Stormcrown did the same. He knew from Arenim that the Skyguard, dovah and vodov, was sworn to Dovahkiin personally, so when they returned to their thrones, he was able to speak decisively. "I will swear now, Majesties, and since I have those options, to the Stormcrown."

Yssha stood again and went around the signing table to accept his oath. When that was completed, she smiled. "If I may make a suggestion, King Imiril? And bear in mind that it is only a suggestion, not an order."

"Of course, Stormcrown."

"I think it would benefit you to travel the Empire for a few months. A small group, traveling incognito, so you can experience more than Alinor and Valenwood. Perhaps brief breaks in your incognito to speak with your counterparts, particularly High King Balgruuf of Skyrim, and if you wish, some of his Jarls. I would be happy to welcome you to my own Skyhold."

"Why Skyrim in particular?" Imiril asked curiously.

"Because in a way, Skyrim is the Empire in miniature, more so than even Cyrodiil. It is also the place I have made my home, and I am proud of it."

"Now that's a very good idea," the Emperor agreed, after a moment's thought. "Skyrim to start with, yes, and while you're doing that, Prince Gaius can get some practical experience as your regent. So that means you could take General Hargan and Master Mage Sorcalin as teachers and bodyguards, plus a Skyguard team for communications and air cover. Perhaps that Odkiinbrii and Arenim pair you told me earlier were part of your bodyguard."

Imiril bowed, glad he'd learned to keep his face impassive in public years ago. "I would be happy to follow both of your suggestions, Majesties. I will make arrangements as soon as I return to Alinor."

The Emperor smiled. "That is well, Highness. The reception is prepared, so it's time for you to meet your fellow provincial rulers."

* * *

The reception wasn't as bad as Imiril had feared. His fellow rulers (or their representatives, as for the Mane of Elsweyr) might not be too fond of Altmer, but they were well trained in diplomacy, so there was no overt hostility, and some sympathy for his loss of his father and city he felt might actually be sincere, especially from High King Balgruuf. But mostly it was innocuous chat, accompanied by a nice meal with a surprisingly pleasant drink he found out was Nord mead. By the time the reception broke up and he headed for bed, he was thinking that being a part of the Empire might not be as bad as he had feared.


	4. Siddgeir's Offense

Chapter 4 - Siddgeir's Offense

29 First Seed, 5E 3

Right after Yssha's rescue, Balgruuf scheduled a welcome-home party for her, with all the Jarls invited. She wasn't really sure she wanted that, but she'd managed the post-surrender reception with no unpleasantness, so she accepted the invitation. As soon as the courier with her response left, she turned to Marcurio. "I do not wish to attend in my armor, and I have little else suitable for ... the way I am expected to dress. I should probably visit the new seamstress in Helgen, but I am confident of Taarie's work, and she wished to design some outfits for me. I am going to Solitude to talk to her - would you want to come along, or would it bore you?"

He chuckled. "Both - so while you're in the shop, I'll visit the Winking Skeever."

X

Both Taarie and Endarie greeted her when she entered the Radiant Raiment. "What can we do for you today, Majesty?" Taarie asked.

Yssha sighed. "Go back to calling me something less pretentious in private, to begin with. Then I need to know how long it will take you to make me some outfits that will actually fit that title."

Both of them laughed, and Endarie actually smiled at her. "Taarie's been doing designs, and since we have your measurements, we've actually worked several of them up." She turned to Taarie. "It doesn't look like she was starved or anything while she was in those damn Thalmor's hands, does it?"

While Taarie studied her, Yssha shook her head. "I was never starved. The Nerissa wanted my pelts in the best possible condition, so I was fed very well. However, I have had no proper exercise for two months, so you are more likely to have to let things out than take them in."

"Then it's a good thing we only baste items we make just hoping a client likes them," Taarie said. "If you'll come to the back room, you can get out of that armor while I get the possibles and my other designs."

Yssha chose two of the speculative designs - "For now; the others are lovely, but hold them until I get back into condition -", then added, "I will also need some everyday outfits, and one or two formal ones, with 'waistlines' only a bit below my breasts. But that must not be revealed for another week or so."

Taarie squealed, there was no other word for it. "You're _pregnant_?"

Yssha chuckle-purred. "By the grace of Auri-El, yes. And I must tell you that my taste in clothing construction changed during my captivity, because I spent all of it totally unclad. So you might wish to consider that I now strongly dislike restrictive clothing other than armor. And am not terribly fond of that, as you saw from the battle-kilt."

Taarie looked thoughtful. "You'd rather do without smalls? Even a breastband?"

"Whenever possible, yes. I am not particularly well-endowed in that region, to Marcurio's disappointment, but when my pregnancy is more advanced, I will probably need it."

"But in the meantime, and afterward ... " Yssha smiled at Taarie's near-predatory expression. "You do know royals set style, I'm sure. Going from current styles to what I think you're going to want ... I'll sketch up a few designs and get them out to you by courier in a day or two. And ... um. Maybe a gift, if I can find the right robe."

Yssha hid a smile at that. A change in styles could be very profitable for these friends of hers! "There is no rush ... I need something appropriate for a party in a week, and I am sure the dark blue will do very nicely. Send it to Dragonsreach, please."

X

Yssha was more than a little worried about talking to Balgruuf the first time she entered Dragonsreach after her rescue, but she approached his throne as normally as possible, and bowed. "It is good to see you again, High King."

He rose, smiling and returning the bow. "And you, Stormcrown. What may I do for Your Majesty?"

"Stop calling me that, if you would, fahdoni. Or if you feel you must in public, a private audience."

"Private audience, then." Balgruuf gestured toward the stairs. "My office?"

"That would be fine, Highness." She followed him upstairs, settling into her usual chair beside his desk.

"Now, what can I do for you, Ysmir?" he asked, smiling.

"I do not really know," she admitted. "You know what was done to me, and that I enjoyed it. That Thalmor flyer was accurate. And Talos has told me, as if I did not know from remembered experience, that promiscuity is normal for a dov."

"For anyone powerful," Balgruuf said, and grinned. "It's fun getting propositioned, at least for a man. What would you think if I asked you to share a bed with me?"

"Ah ... " Yssha smiled. She liked Balgruuf, and considered him one of her oldest Skyrim friends. "He told me that men I had never seen would be claiming to have bedded me, and that I should flaunt my willingness, to get the scandal over with more quickly. I ... do not like that. I would happily bed a number of men I can think of, but ... I would rather the word not get out." She hesitated. "That is the vodov side dov side would wish the word of her exploits, especially with her more powerful partners, to spread."

"So my question? And Marcurio's reaction?"

"That I would do so happily," she replied. "We have been friends since shortly after I arrived in Skyrim, and you are a geat warrior. I would be quite happy to take you to bed." she paused. "Marcurio realized on his own that to deny my nature would be harmful, and told me to indulge myself. Also, Talos promised me Marcurio would be shielded from hurt at my dragon nature, and I trust him and Father Akatosh."

"Then shall we?"

X

It was an ... interesting party, Yssha thought. She took Jarls Brunwulf Free-Winter and Kraldar up on their propositions, using an empty apartment for the purpose, and was starting to relax and enjoy herself when Siddgeir approached.

"So the advertisements were right, Dovahkiin?" His tone made his words a sneer, and Marcurio approached, alerting.

"I have not denied them, Jarl Siddgeir," she replied. "Yes, the Thalmor made me a slave-whore, and being dovah let me enjoy many, perhaps even most, of my clients. Though I did find some repugnant."

"Then come upstairs, and I'll show you what a real man's like." He grabbed her wrist, and she stiffened.

"Release me."

"Come on, whore. You know you want me - and I've paid enough for you. Part of my Hold, an entire town - " He yanked her wrist. "Upstairs!"

She twisted her wrist against his thumb in a release the Knights had taught her years ago. "I think not. Are you drunk?" She didn't think so; he didn't smell of alcohol.

"Come on!" He grabbed her again, this time with both hands, and she used the stronger form of the against-the-thumb release.

"No more, Siddgeir," she warned. "I am grateful for your help with Lakeview, but you are dangerously close to lese-majesty."

"Lese-majesty, whore?" He might not be drunk, Yssha thought, but he wasn't his normal self, either, obnoxious as that was. Sheogorath, perhaps? Or some other Daedric Prince?

And he grabbed her again, pulling her to him for a rough embrace.

"Gaar zey!"

"Release you? I think not." He sneered. "You take on all comers, don't you, Whore of Alinor? So take me on, here and now!"

Yssha glanced at Balgruuf, who was looking horrified, and decided to defer to him. "High King, this one is your subject before he is mine. Will you stop him, or shall I?"

Balgruuf sighed. "Siddgeir, stop it!" He signalled two of the guards. "Take him to a cell until he comes to his senses."

Before they could do so, Siddgeir spat in her face, and she reacted with, "Fus!"

That threw him the length of the Great Hall, and he landed against the base of a pillar near the entry door. The guards got to him before he could stand, and hauled him in front of Balgruuf, who had taken his throne.

"I don't know what got into you, Siddgeir," Balgruuf growled, "but I cannot overlook such blatant lese majesty. The penalty is forfeiture of all positions and property, followed by death. You will be executed in the morning, and I will name a new Jarl of Falkreath." He turned his attention to the guards. "Take him to the dungeon."

When Siddgeir had been dragged from the hall, Balgruuf sighed. "My apologies, Ysmir. I knew he resented you - he made that clear enough at Serana and Nevan's wedding - but as I said then, I hadn't expected him to act on it. And that was far from explainable by simple resentment."

"I would tend to agree," Yssha said. "It is almost as if he went insane with hatred." She sighed. "May I ask what you plan to do with Falkreath? His steward and housecarl were running it for him, essentially. And to the best of my knowledge, he had no heir."

"He didn't - and if he had, there'd be nothing to inherit. The loss of position and property comes first for precisely that reason." Balgruuf thought for a few moments. "As the offended party, you may take any part of his property you wish, you know."

"I know, but I prefer not to disrupt a functional hold. I would prefer you reward Nenya, who has been doing most of the work anyway."

"That sounds reasonable, Majesty; it will be so."

"Thank you, fahdoni." She sighed. "I would like to remain at your party, but I feel I ought to inform the Emperor of this attack. Divines willing, I will be able to return before too long."

X

Since her Voice had gotten so much stronger, Yssha decided to see if her magica reserves had grown as well. So she tried teleporting to the Emperor's working office. As co-ruler, she was reasonably sure she had that right, especially since Grams did.

He was there, and exclaimed when she appeared. "Stormcrown! It's good to see you, and you're even more lovely than usual in that dress. But you startled me."

"Thank you, and I am sorry for startling you, but I was testing ... it seems I can now 'port this far. But would you mind, please, using a name in private?"

"If you will. Which would you prefer?"

"My birth-name of Yssha, if you can keep me and Grams separate. Though I would hardly be offended if you get it wrong."

He smiled. "All right, Yssha. Then I'm Titus. Are you here for any particular reason?"

"Two, actually." She described the confrontation with Siddgeir, adding that Balgruuf had carried out the law, confiscating Falkreath and condemning Siddgeir to death, and was planning to have Siddgeir executed in the morning. "His former steward, who was the one primarily running the Hold, will become the new Jarl."

Titus nodded. "Reasonable, and if it's appealed, we can back him. What's your other news?"

Yssha smiled. "This is much more pleasant, at least for me. I am pregnant, by my husband, thanks to Akatosh's intervention. So Skyhold is guaranteed an heir."

"That's wonderful - congratulations to both of you!" Titus was grinning broadly. "Does anyone else know?"

"Marcurio, of course. Also Grams and Priestess Danica," Yssha replied. "Grams smelled it, and she wished Danica to monitor the pregnancy in case of any other inter-species pregnancies, which I agreed was wise. Oh, and since I will need new clothes moderately soon, the proprietors of the Radiant Raiment in Solitude. Perhaps one or two others."

"Then I'd suggest you let everyone know, before it gets around as a rumor. Or I'll make the announcement for you in the morning. Unless you have a specific reason to keep it secret as long as possible, of course."

"I have asked those who do know not to speak of it, but ... hmm. That may be difficult for them, and I suppose there is no real reason, other than personal preference, to maintain secrecy. So I will return to the party and inform the High King and Jarls, and ask that you tell the rest of the Empire tomorrow."

The Emperor smiled. "I'll be happy to. Oh, you might like to know that Imiril decided to take your advice; he and his party will be leaving for Whiterun tomorrow."

"That is good to know," Yssha said. "I will tell Balgruuf that, as well." She paused briefly. "I did promise to return as soon as I could, so if you will excuse me, I will do so."

"Certainly. I'll see you again shortly, I'm sure."

X

Yssha materialized in her and Marcurio's Dragonsreach apartment, and went downstairs to rejoin the party, which had resumed, but more quietly than before Siddgeir's offense. Well, perhaps her announcement would improve the mood.

Balgruuf was mingling with his guests again, so she stood in front of his throne and, when she caught Marcurio's eye, beckoned him up beside her. He gave her an inquiring look, and she nodded, then pitched her voice to carry. "Your Highness, Your Graces, may I have your attention, please?"

Everyone turned to face her, all but Idgrod Raven-Crone looking curious; the Jarl of Hjaalmarch winked and smiled at her. She returned the smile, then put her arm around Marcurio's waist, felt his arm go around her shoulders.

"My friends - and I count all of you here as that - I hope you will share my joy. By the grace of Bormah Akatosh, Marcurio and I will become parents in ... however long a Khajiit-human pregnancy takes."

That got a commotion going, with all the women guests heading for her, and they were surrounded by hugging, chattering women congratulating her and asking questions, some of which she could answer, but many she couldn't, like when, what the baby would look like, would he have a tail - "Boy or girl?" had been one of the questions she could answer.

Finally Marcurio laughed. "Ladies, ladies - this is the very first confirmed Khajiit-human mix, so we know almost nothing, really. And no, we haven't decided on a name yet, since we want to see if a Khajiit or Imperial name will be more appropriate."

"And we men want a chance to congratulate them, too," Balgruuf said. "Give us a turn, will you?"

The party went well after that, and Balgruuf accepted Marcurio's suggestion that Farengar check out Siddgeir to see if there were any magical clues to why Siddgeir had done what he had. Farengar by preference, since Marcurio's skills were primarily in the Destruction school, with some skill in Restoration. Since Fusmulgar was still brooding her eggs, Farengar shouldn't miss anything by returning to Dragonsreach for a while.

X

Author's Note: Actually, Siddgeir committed lese-majesty when he first grabbed and insulted Yssha. She tried to let him off easy, but no such luck.


	5. Daedric Conference

.

Chapter 5 - Daedric Conference

Kiraya was on an errand she was reluctant to undertake. Granted, she had given her current employer a discount, but that same employer had - without being asked, mind you - improved and enchanted her armor, and enchanted the precious ebony bow her mentor had given her. So she had been compensated very well indeed, better than any previous employer ... which was what made this so difficult. Still, it was necessary to achieve her current objective.

She greeted Ahkrinbo and the two of his team who weren't busy practicing archery, then continued to the Manor's main door, and knocked. When Rayya answered, she bowed. "Kiraya would like to speak to the Lady Dovahkiin, if she is free."

"Come in, and I'll see."

Kiraya obeyed, waiting in the entry hall until Rayya returned, smiling. "She'll see you in the sitting room. Follow me."

Kiraya did so, admiring the home. It wasn't ostentatious, but it was clearly the home of someone wealthy, because everything she could see was of high quality, Including the chair the Dragonborn waved her to.

"Welcome, Kiraya," Yssha said. "You are looking well, and I must thank you for reuniting Sorcalin and his parents."

"It was fortune rather than skill, but this one is happy about it, as well. How is Lady Serana doing? This one heard she was gravely injured."

Yssha nodded. "Yes, she lost her left leg, but there were two master mages there able to cast healing spells to keep her alive, though there was nothing they could do about the severed leg. She's up and around on crutches now, and she and her husband are making plans for a mechanical leg replacement." She paused. "But I am sure that was not what you wanted to see me about."

"No." Kiraya looked down. "You know this one is fond of Kharjo?"

Yssha smiled. "It would be hard to miss, truly. Is there a problem?"

"Of sorts. We wish to visit Elsweyr, at least briefly, then travel Skyrim together. But Kharjo will not leave while he owes money to Ahkari, so that is the problem. We do not have so much, and this one wonders if you would be willing to extend a loan."

Yssha was puzzled. "Unless you have been more extravagant than I would expect, you should have enough for any reasonable debt."

"Ah ... " Kiraya blushed, her ear-tips heating. "This one has what another might call an extravagance. She was raised in an orphanage in Orcrest, and sent them most of the money."

"Ah!" Yssha smiled. "Then we share an interest. Marcurio and I finance orphanages in most of Skyrim's holds. And we have adopted one, a Nord boy named Freyr. How much do you need?"

"One hundred seventy-eight," Kiraya replied. "To be repaid with interest in a year."

"The interest to your orphanage, as a contribution from me," Yssha agreed. "Done?"

"Done and done," Kiraya agreed.

* * *

Interlude in Oblivion

The Daedric Princes were gathered to discuss what Mehrunes Dagon called the "Dragonborn Problem".

He was the most ambitious of the Princes, having tried to invade Nirn several times, but they had no real ruler, so most were there out of simple curiosity.

It was Sheogorath who actually opened the meeting. "So what is it, Meh? She nip your nose?"

Mehrunes Dagon growled. "She stole my Razor, and sequestered the Mysterium Xarxes' title page. I want revenge. I should have had her as my champion instead!"

Sheogorath laughed. "A Dragonborn, child of Akatosh himself? You think he'd let one of his children serve any one of us? Even Sanguine knew better than to try! I've no reason to act against her - in fact, I may drop Wabbajack off for her to play with for a while."

"Not exactly," the Lord of Debauchery said. "I was starting to try, because debauching her would be great fun, but I was warned off." He grinned. "On the other hand, her own dovah nature puts her partly into my realm. She is very sensual, and only a bit more picky about her partners than I would prefer. She's amusing to watch as she comes to terms with herself."

Peryite shrugged. "She hasn't bothered me or mine, so I don't care one way or the other."

"I do," Vaermina said. "She didn't steal my artifact personally, but she did aid a traitorous priest of mine, who turned to Mara instead, to steal it. I'm with you, Mehrunes."

"Nocturnal?" Mehrunes Dagon turned to the Lady of Shadows.

"Your problem." She shrugged. "I was informed she couldn't serve me fully as a Nightingale, but she did return the Skeleton Key, so I allowed her to become one of my Agents, and she chose Shadow. And she did allow me to establish a shrine in her guild. I will not act against her."

"Azura?"

The Lady of Dawn and Dusk shook her head. "My artifacts are in no danger from her, and my champion is a long-time friend of her family. He acts with her, not against her."

"As is mine," Hircine added.

"And mine is a member of her Family," Meridia added. "My champion has also been maimed, and is out of action, at least for a time."

Mehrunes Dagon scowled at them. "Then I'll expect you to at least refrain from action."

"You don't rule us, Dagon," Hircine said with a snarl. "We'll act as we see fit, as always."

The scowl became a glare, but Dagon's attention turned to those who hadn't yet committed themselves. "Namira?"

"I've had no dealings with her," the Lady of Decay said. "I'll sit this one out, unless she acts against me."

"The same goes for me," Malacath said. "As long as she leaves me alone, I'll do the same for her."

Dagon turned to Mephala. "What about you, Webspinner?"

"She ruined one of my more disruptive schemes, then had Talos take my Ebony Blade to Aetherius, and he put it in the trophy room of her Stormhaven house, with the others he removed from Mundus. To add insult to injury, she calls it the Blade of Betrayal."

Sheogorath laughed. "It's actually a very accurate name, you know - and more imaginative, as well. You ought to change it."

"You have a point," Vaermina agreed. "More like my Skull of Corruption. I wonder where that ended up."

"Immaterial," Mehrunes Dagon snapped. "What about you, Clavicus?"

"Never dealt with her, and my Masque doesn't seem like the type of artifact she'd bother having removed from Mundus. Seems she goes more for the nastier weapons than apparel. I do wonder what she'd ask me for, though. I may send Barbas to lure her to my shrine, and find out."

"And you, Molag Bal? I hear she got your Mace."

"After I set a trap for her that she sprang, and killed a number of my vampires, yes. I'll gladly help you against that skeever-spawn."

"I as well," Hermaeus Mora said, in his measured voice. "Not because she stole the Oghma Infinium; she did not. That she earned honestly. But she refused me twice, once in my own realm of Apocrypha, when I claimed her as champion. She must not escape me!"

"That leaves only you, Boethiah," Dagon said. "How say you, Prince of Plots?"

"She is not the type to make me a suitable champion. Now if she had joined the Dark Brotherhood instead of destroying it, she might have had potential, but as it is, she interests me not. Nor is my artifact in danger from her."

"So we all know where we stand," Mehrunes Dagon said. "I thank you all for coming. Those of you who stand with me, please remain; the rest will leave my realm."

* * *

The three who favored the Dragonborn joined Azura in her palace in Moonshadow, where she was the first to speak. "We support the Dragonborn primarily because of our Champions. I think it would be well to notify at least one of them about that conference."

"Yours would probably be best," Meridia said. "Mine, as I mentioned, has been maimed and is unable to wield Dawnbreaker until she and her people can restore her mobility. I need to find at least a temporary replacement, able to wield it, and preferably the Ring of Khajiiti as well - I foresee them requiring considerable stealth at times."

Hircine thought for a moment, then smiled. "I may have a candidate for you - she came to my attention by doing a couple of services for my champion, most recently reuniting him with his parents. An attractive Khajiit named Kiraya."

"Mmm. I shall observe her for a time, then, and if she seems suitable, ask her allegiance."

Azura nodded. "But if we are to get the information to the Dragonborn in a reasonable time, my champion and Hircine's will have to change some travel plans."

Hircine chuckled. "Indeed they will. I doubt Mehrunes and his group will give them the weeks that surface travel will take to warn her."

* * *

"Change of plans," Andreius said, when he, Imiril, Sorcalin, and Arenim met the day of their departure. "Arenim, how many can Odkiinbrii carry?"

"Four, easily; five, if they crowd together."

"Good. Then we fly to Lakeview Manor, and use ground transport from Helgen, rather than sailing to Wayrest in High Rock and by carriage or horse to Markarth, then Whiterun."

Sorcalin nodded. "So I was told, as well. Highness, Skyguard - any objections?"

"To flying?" Imiril laughed. "Certainly not!" He grinned. "Especially if I get to sit behind her and hang on."

"Airborne 'flying' in that sense is only for dovah," she informed him. "Hands to yourself until we're on the ground. And that is not a request."

"Yes, Skyguard." There was an element of teasing in Imiril's voice, but no one listening doubted he'd obey. And she'd said nothing about 'hands off' on the ground, which seemed promising.

"Let's go, then," Andreius said.

* * *

Ahkrinbo greeted them when they landed at Lakeview Manor. Andreius introduced Imiril and Arenim, stressing that they would be traveling incognito, and Ahkrinbo promised to spread the word. Dragons loved to gossip, certainly, but they could keep secrets when necessary.

Yssha was startled when she saw them. "What are you four doing here? I thought you would be starting with King Balgruuf in Whiterun!"

"Unexpected change of plans," Andreius said. "Azura thinks you need to be warned about something, and sent me here instead."

Yssha frowned. "If a Daedric Prince thinks I should be warned of something, it must be serious. Tell us about it, as soon as I get Marcurio in here."

That didn't take long, and as soon as he joined them, she said, "Now tell us."

"A coalition of Princes are plotting against you. There was a meeting recently, and it seems Hermaeus Mora, Mephala, Mehrunes Dagon, Vaermina, and Molag Bal want revenge on you, all but Herma-Mora for stealing their artifacts. He's angry at you for not becoming his champion." Andreius grinned. "It's not all bad, though; Azura, Meridia and Hircine are on your side, because of their champions' friendship with you. The rest are neutral, unless you act against them. Some are more favorable than others, of course, but at least for now, they're staying out of it."

Yssha sighed. "That is not good," she admitted. "Though I am very glad of any assistance those three are willing to offer."

"Unfortunately, they can't give you any specific information. Obviously, they got kicked out before the enemy group started planning."

"Obviously, yes." Yssha sighed again. "Please, if any of the friendly three see a threat to my Family, ask them to ignore any threats to me, and help them instead."

"They will," Andreius assured her.

"As will I, at least your sons." Talos appeared, to assure her. "The rest can fight for themselves, but Freyr, and especially your baby, cannot. It shouldn't take Bormahu's influence, since the Princes can no longer manifest physically in Mundus, and I should be able to handle their servants."

"They cannot?" Yssha frowned. "Then how was Hermaeus Mora able to turn Septimus Signus to ash and impale Storn Crag-Strider with his tentacles?"

"The first is possible from his realm, with a Prince's powers, but the second, I do not know - I'll ask Bormahu. Possibly because Storn was offering him information and that's the way he gains it, is the only reason I can think of offhand."

"I suppose that makes sense," Yssha said slowly. "But it worries me, that if one may manifest physically, others may be able to."

 _There is a way to prevent that, moni._ She sensed Bormah's presence, and smiled. _I have forbidden them access to Mundus physically, when I restored the barriers between Oblivion and Mundus after Martin shattered the Amulet of Kings, but it seems there are occasional flaws. Those should be remedied, and you are immortal, so it need be done only once._

Something about that made Yssha shudder. "What do you mean, Bormah?"

This time he spoke so all could hear. "I will give you the power to do what My Avatar was kept from doing. You will go to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires. That will completely bar any physical manifestation from Oblivion, so only their emanations may manifest."

"Even without the Amulet of Kings?" Yssha asked.

"Indeed, since you have both the dovasil and dovahsos. But the manifestations will continue, so those artifacts still here will remain unless you ask for them to removed, and the Princes' ability to contact or gain champions will as well. It is also possible they may influence mortals to recreate their artifacts, then imbue them with the powers of the ones you removed. Even the Dragonfires cannot stop such influences."

"I believe I understand, Bormah, and I will do as you wish, of course."

"One more thing. There are two permanent portals to Oblivion that cannot be blocked. Fortunately, neither allows access to Mundus from Oblivion, unless that individual initially entered Oblivion willingly at that specific portal."

Yssha frowned. "I assume the Soul Cairn is one, because both Valerica and Serana entered willingly and returned. But I do not know the other."

"Surely you've heard of the Strange Door on an island in the Niben Bay, about halfway between Bravil and Fort Grief," Andreius said.

Yssha thought for a moment. "Once, several years ago," she said with a nod. "Grams mentioned entering it and encountering someone named Haskill, who introduced himself as Sheogorath's chamberlain. He wanted her to help his master handle a forthcoming cataclysm. She told me she went to the Shivering Isles briefly, but decided she liked a realm of madness even less than she had liked the Deadlands, and returned to Cyrodiil."

Andreius nodded. "That's what she told us. That, and she had no intention of helping him again after Border Watch, something she regretted doing."

"That, I do not remember her mentioning, and I will not ask her about it."


	6. Starting the Tour

Author's Note: I must apologize, but due to Real Life commitments, mostly medical involving my sisters, updates will be slowing to once a week, on Fridays. I could possibly still do two a week, but that would mean forcing things, and the quality would suffer, probably badly. Please forgive me.

* * *

Chapter 6 - Starting the Tour

Early the next morning, Yssha and her companions landed in the Arena, Odahviing and Odkiinbrii followed by Lokbiidaan. All were in their best armor, and as they walked toward the Temple of the One, were joined by citizens of all ranks. When they got to the Temple, they were met by the Emperor himself. "I had a dream, Stormcrown ... is this what it seems?"

Yssha nodded. "It seems the Daedric Princes are exploiting some weaknesses in the barriers between Oblivion and Mundus to insert themselves, or parts of themselves, onto Nirn. I do not know how or why relighting the Dragonfires will stop that, and it will not stop their influence or non-physical actions, nor will it keep them from sending lesser creatures through, but I am assured it will stop any physical manifestation of the Princes themselves, or masses of the lesser beings." She smiled. "On a lesser note, it will symbolize the return of the dragons to their originally intended purpose, and the promise that we will remain that way."

The Emperor returned her smile. "Both are very good things, but I was taught that the Amulet of Kings was necessary to rekindle the Dragonfires."

"So was I," Yssha said. "But that is apparently not the case when a dragon is doing so with a special Shout Akatosh created, and the strongest individual Thu'um short of his."

"Then if you'll light them, Stormcrown?"

Yssha nodded, then faced the central rimmed stone basin that had held the original Dragonfires. The columned canopy above it had been so badly damaged in the final battle that it had had to be removed, as had the remains of the Temple's roof, but the Temple interior was kept warded against the weather, and priests kept it pristine.

"Dov Yol Ag!" she Shouted.

This flame wasn't the tremendous gout of the combat Fire Breath. It was as hot, but far more controlled and brighter, more like a fireball than what Nevan called an 'oversized flamethrower burst', that settled delicately into the basin and burned steadily, without fuel.

The priests began conducting a service of thanksgiving. She and her people waited until it was over, then most of them left for Lakeview Manor, while Odkiinbrii and his riders continued on to Helgen.

* * *

Since they were traveling incognito, Andreius was wearing leather armor rather than the Lord's Mail, Sorcalin was in his Master robes, and Imiril and Arenim were in scaled armor. They'd debated whether to travel by carriage or buy horses, deciding on the latter because it allowed for more flexibility, so when they found the Helgen Stables, they asked the young Redguard owner what he had.

"Only two, here, I'm afraid," Shadr told him. "The black is a five-year-old stallion, the dapple grey a fifteen-year-old gelding." He grinned at Sorcalin. "You're a Master Mage, so you can check; they're both healthy. But I'm afraid the gelding is ... um ... not very spirited. He moves as well as any, but he's no fighter. On the good side, he doesn't shy at everything in sight, either. I swear if a dragon landed a length away, he'd just stare at it."

Sorcalin chuckled. "That sounds like about my speed." He checked the horses, and nodded to Andreius. "He's right, both are nice and healthy. I get the gelding. Arenim can have my mare."

"That sounds reasonable," Andreius said, chuckling. If the gelding would tolerate a dragon, it shouldn't have much of a problem with a werewolf, where the mare was still nervous about him, and would be happier with the Odmer. Andreius turned to the stable-owner. "We'll take both of them, and if you have a carriage, we'll rent it to the nearest town with another stable."

Shadr smiled. "You two adventured with Dovahkiin for a while, didn't you?" When they nodded, he smiled. "I thought so. I do, and the next-nearest stable is Whiterun. For you, the price is ten septims."

Andreius quirked an eyebrow. "Half price?"

Shadr nodded. "I have to cover the cost of my driver's wages and feed for the horse, or it'd be free. I owe Dovahkiin for my freedom, my stable, and maybe my life. Before she was even known as that, she took care of a debt I owed a Thieves Guild member for something that very thief had stolen."

Imiril looked at him in surprise. "She did? And she didn't even know you?"

"No ... she heard me begging with the thief to give me time, and offered to help. Then later, she found me, and told me the debt had been cleared. I don't know what she did, and honestly, I think I may not want to know ... but any help I can give her or her friends, I will."

"We appreciate it," Andreius assured him. "All right, it's a bargain. Two lead-lines and saddles with the horses? And no price break on those; I don't know any stable that could afford that kind of loss."

"As you say." Shadr smiled. "Two thousand for the horses and saddles. No charge for the lead lines, if you only want them till Whiterun."

"Fair enough." Andreius handed over the money, and they were on their way within ten minutes.

* * *

They dropped the horses off at the Whiterun stable, sending Shadr's driver and carriage back to Helgen, then paid the stabling fees for the horses they'd left here on the way to Skyhold, a palomino stallion Andreius had become quite fond of, and the white mare, who nuzzled Arenim at first sight, and walked up to the city. They stopped briefly for Andreius to chat with Adrianne, then a stop at the Bannered Mare to arrange a couple of rooms for the night.

Imiril was fascinated by the inn, since he had no experience with public accommodations; the few times he'd left Alinor City overnight, he'd stayed with a noble family. "Andreius, can we maybe stay for a bit? Some of that lovely Nord mead, and ... um, whatever they have for lunch?"

Andreius chuckled. "Why not?" The idea was for Imiril to learn about the Empire, after all. He turned to the proprietor. "What's for lunch, Hulda?"

"Venison stew for the hot, with bread. The usual cheeses, and I've some cold roast pheasant or beef, again with bread, if you prefer that. Mead for all of you, or just the young man?"

"Venison stew for me, please," Imiril said. Beef and pheasant were nice, but he'd never had venison stew - venison, of course, but not stew, at least that he could recall - so that would be new.

The others gave their orders, then Andreius led them to one of the larger tables. "How are you liking it so far, Imiril?" he asked.

"It's ... everything's really strange, but I think I'm enjoying myself."

Arenim smiled. "I'm glad. Is this the first time you've been out of your province?"

Imiril nodded. "I was barely allowed out of the Palace! And you?"

"The first thing I can remember is waking in Sightless Pit. Something or someone guided me out, and I was picked up by Odkiinbrii." She shrugged. "You'll find few Odmer with personal memories that go beyond our individual Restorations. We know the culture we had before the Betrayal, intellectually, but we have no feeling for any, yet. So both of us are basically in unknown territory."

Their meals were delivered then, and they ate silently for a bit, until Sorcalin said, "I hadn't realized both of you were so totally isolated. If Andreius or I can help in any way, please say so."

Both smiled at him, and Imiril nodded. "We will, and we thank you." He gestured at his almost-empty bowl of stew. "Are there other dishes like this? It's not the fancy food I'm used to, but it's as least as good, and the mead ... well, it's better than flower-wine. More ... I don't know. They seem to be about equal alcohol-wise, but the mead is ... sturdier?"

Another customer who'd overheard him laughed. "So you like Nord food and drink, do you, young elf? Ever had Eidar cheese, or apple-cabbage stew? Or our ale?"

Imiril turned to face him. "No, I'm afraid not. But I will be happy to try them, when I'm not full of this wonderful venison stew and mead."

"Idolaf Battle-born, at your service," the Nord said. "And you are?"

"Imiril of Alinor. Here on a tour of Skyrim, now that's safe."

Idolaf laughed. "Only a bit safer than during the war, young mer," he said. "I hope you and your friends are capable of defending yourselves. If not, you might want to hire a few mercenary bodyguards."

"I think we'll be all right," Andreius said with a laugh. "My friend Sorcalin and I have fought some respectable foes, so we aren't worried about bandits."

Idolaf chuckled. "Good to hear it. Have a nice tour, then."

"Thanks," Imiril replied as Idolaf left. Then he turned to Andreius. "Where next?"

"Dragonsreach, for a quick courtesy call on High King Balgruuf. Next will be Helgen, capital of Skyhold. We stopped there briefly for the first two horses, but since we had to pay this courtesy call, you didn't get to look around."

"All right. Where's Dragonsreach?"

"Up two more flights of steps." Andreius chuckled. "Skyrim has a lot of steps, so get used to them."

"I'm noticing that," Imiril said. He and Arenim both looked around the marketplace. "Up there?" He gestured toward the Gildergreen. "I've never seen a tree like that."

"Yes - that's the Gildergreen, a tree sacred to Kynareth. The original was hit by lightning, and the Daragonborn prayed to its parent the Eldergleam for a replacement. Her prayer was granted, then Kynareth brought the sapling to full maturity this spring."

As they climbed the steps, Imiril asked, "Is she involved with _everything_ in Skyrim?"

"Not quite, but a lot," Sorcalin replied. "That does tend to happen with legendary heroes - her greats-grandmother the Hero of Kvatch - "

"And a lot of other titles; that was only the first," Andreius added.

"True." Sorcalin gave his partner a brief glare for interrupting. "But as I was saying, she and the Nerevarine were deeply involved in their lands as well. It seems to go with the territory."

"Oh!" Arenim looked toward the statue of Talos, where Heimskr was preaching as usual. "Excuse me a moment, please." Ignoring Heimskr for the moment, she approached the Dovahkiin shrine, bowed, then prayed, and was briefly washed in a golden glow.

Heimskr approached, and smiled. "Greetings, my daughter. You honor Ysmir?"

"She Who Restores, the Favored of Auri-El? Of course. All Odmer do." Arenim returned his smile. "You are Her priest?"

Heimskr sighed. "No, I am Talos'. Ysmir allows worship only reluctantly, and has only one temple and one priestess that I'm aware of, on Solstheim."

Arenim chuckled. "Then if I see her, I shouldn't tell her she's ranked just below Auri-El in the Odmer pantheon?"

Heimskr laughed aloud. "Please, don't! But personally, I'm glad to hear it. And I like the first title you give her, since restoring things does seem to be her favorite occupation."

Arenim smiled again, then excused herself and returned to the other three. "Thank you. I'm not the most devout mer, but I do like to pay my respects when I see one of Her shrines. And I would like to visit Her temple, if Solstheim is on our itinerary."

"It is," Andreius assured her. "Technically, it's part of Morrowind, since it was ceded to the Dunmer in 4E 16. But it used to be part of the mainland, and its climate is more like Skyrim's than Morrowind's."

"Good. I look forward to visiting Her temple."

"Well, for now, we have to visit Jarl Balgruuf. You've met him, Imiril, and he knows we're incognito, so it's basically just to let him know we're here."

"So let's climb more steps," the young King said with a grin. "Dragonsreach is impressive, especially this close, and I like the ponds. There's a spring under the castle?"

Andreius shrugged. "I'm no expert, but I think there must be. Come on."

They were admitted with no problems, since Irileth knew Andreius and Sorcalin. The main hall was almost empty, so she escorted them to Balgruuf, and they exchanged the usual courtesies.

Then Balgruuf grinned at Imiril. "I don't usually hold audience with simple visitors, but you're from Alinor, and I'm curious - what do you think of my home so far?"

"The scenery is spectacular, Highness." Imiril shook his head. "And what little food I've had here so far is ... um ... more substantial than I'm used to, but very tasty indeed. And the weather isn't as bad as I was led to believe it would be."

Balgruuf laughed. "Tell me more about that after you've been up north, especially if you stay through the winter. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself so far, though."

"I am that, Your Highness, but I'm also a bit puzzled."

"Oh? About what?" Balgruuf asked curiously.

"Well, I was taught that Nords were suspicious of magic, and used almost none - but this hall is full of it!" Imiril gestured. "Those lights, for instance, and the fire and frost runes on your walls ... but the runes are different from any I've seen before."

Balgruuf chuckled. "That's our researches into what the Dwemer left in Sightless Pit and Blackreach paying off. Nords may not be particularly fond of most magic, true, but when it comes to better ways of lighting, heating, and cooling our homes, you'll find us very pragmatic."

"I understand that!" Imiril said, smiling. "What of the toilets, though? I don't get any feeling of magic from those."

Balgruuf shook his head. "No, those are purely mechanical; the only magic they need is for city sewage treatment. In the countryside, that goes to something called a septic tank with leach field, for non-magical treatment."

"I can see I have a tremendous amount to learn here," Imiril said ruefully. "But I'll definitely be reporting on these conveniences!"

"Please do. Perhaps some trade arrangements can be made, after you return. Now, young man, if you'll excuse me, I have a province to run."

"Of course, Highness." Imiril and the other three bowed. "Thank you for seeing us."


	7. Helgen

.

Chapter 07 - Helgen

About an hour out of Whiterun, en route to Riverwood, Sorcalin pulled up. "Andreius, would you hold the horses, please?"

Andreius chuckled. "The Great Reveal, hmm? Yes, I suppose we should get that out of the way before we run into bandits or something and terrify our young companions."

The two of them dismounted, followed by Imiril and Arenim. Sorcalin called the two mer to come a bit further up the trail with him, then turned to them. "I have a ... certain extra combat ability that's almost universally considered at best revolting, even criminal in some places. But you're traveling with me, so you need to know."

"Let me guess," Arenim said. "You're a shapeshifter, with that caution, so that means werewolf or Vampire Lord." She thought for a moment. "You haven't shown any particular desire for blood, and you eat normal meals, so werewolf. But you wouldn't admit that, unless - Faal Mungrohiik!"

Sorcalin grinned, and bowed slightly. "I am indeed, Skyguard."

Imiril was practically bouncing on his toes. "You're going to shift?"

Sorcalin couldn't help laughing. "Yes, youngster. Andreius and I don't want you reacting badly if I have to do so in combat, so we thought you ought to see in advance. I have to warn you, though, that it isn't pretty."

"Neither is seeing torture," Imiril said, suddenly grim. "But I was raised Thalmor, so at least seeing it is part of the training." He shuddered. "At least I never had to participate."

"Watching a dragon feed isn't particularly pretty either," Arenim agreed.

"Very well. My wolf will be sniffing you after the change, so please try not to flinch or feel fear."

With that, he willed the shift, doubling over briefly, then straightening again. It was interesting that Imiril smelled more curious/intrigued than anything else, and Arenim simply smiled.

His wolf sniffed them, adding them to the "allies" list, then he shifted back, and complimented them. "Both of you handled that very well. Shall we return to Andreius?"

* * *

Nevan was getting his first close-up look at a Skyrim horse when he glimpsed Andreius and his group riding up. He'd ridden practically every day since his arrival, but on dragon-neck rather than horseback. The horses reminded him of light draft stock, rather than the genetically-engineered Arabian variants he'd grown up around, but given the weather and terrain, that was probably to be expected. He waved, smiling. "Hi, how was your trip?"

"Nice," Andreius replied, sliding off his horse. "Imiril discovered venison stew, we found out a bit about Odmer religion, and paid our respects to High King Balgruuf." He noticed Nevan's expression, and grinned. "You look like someone just cast a confusion spell on you. What's wrong?"

"Um, you don't have stirrups, something I never noticed before. We need to remedy that. I have to see how that saddle is built, unless you know what kind of a saddle-tree it has."

"Oh, something else from your plane, hmm?" Andreius grinned. "It's solid. We tried flexible or semi-solid centuries ago, but they turned out to be too hard on the horses. But what are stirrups?"

Nevan laughed. "A place to put your feet, attached to the saddle with stirrup straps. Makes mounting and controlling your animal a whole lot easier. They do require riding boots, and learning to ride with your heels down, but that shouldn't be a problem."

"Not if it makes that much difference," Andreius said. "The Legion cavalry would be interested, I'm sure. Can you make me a sample?"

"Sure, just come by J'Gashta's forge, and bring your saddle. If you're going to be in town long enough, you should be able to try them out in a couple of hours."

"We should be," Sorcalin said. "We weren't here earlier long enough to show Arenim and Imiril the first city in Skyrim to allow Betmer residents."

"Betmer?" Nevan was puzzled. "Is that an elven race I don't know about yet?"

Sorcalin chuckled. "That's a subject for debate, actually. There are theories that all the intelligent races of Tamriel except humans - well, and dragons, of course - are descended from the Altmer. So beastfolk are also known as Betmer."

"I think I prefer it as a name," Nevan said. "I don't care about the theories, it just seems more polite."

Imiril looked at the Sandeman. "Some of us like those theories, and some of us hate them ... but I agree, 'Betmer' is more polite than 'beastfolk'. I'm going to follow your example, I think."

Andreius smiled at that. If their King did that, most Altmer would follow _his_ example, which would be diplomatically helpful. "Oh, are Argis and Lydia still giving tours of Dovahkiin's palace?"

"As far as we know," Serana said, from where she was leaning against the stable wall, her crutches beside her. "If not, I'll show your friends the public areas while Nev's working on Andi's saddle."

"That sounds good." Andreius unsaddled his horse and slung the saddle over one shoulder. "Shadr, take care of the others?"

"That's what I'm here for," the young Redguard said with a grin.

* * *

Their first stop was the blacksmith shop, where Nevan rented the use of it for two hours, including materials, from J'Gashta, and when the Khajiit blacksmith asked, agreed to let him see the new equipment being worked. No reason not to, since as soon as stirrups made an appearance, he was pretty sure they'd be adopted Tamriel-wide, and were simple enough any smith seeing them would be able to forge a set almost immediately.

The rest headed for the Palace, Arenim pausing to wave to Odkiinbrii, who was perched on a dragon tower just outside the wall. Then she turned to Serana. "Your husband seems to be very ingenious, or have many ideas from his home plane." She sighed. "I wonder ... might he know of, or be able to invent, a writing instrument that's less messy than charcoal, and less permanent than ink?

Serana chuckled. "Knowing him, probably. I'll ask."

"Thanks." She paused, then pointed. "The Skyhold Palace? It doesn't look like much.."

This time, Serana laughed aloud. "No - that's just the city plaza and Palace pavilion, so the Dovahjud can receive dovah visitors. The Palace proper is at the far end, past the hangings behind the Mirmulnir Throne."

Imiril's breath caught, and he pointed. "That? That's the Mirmulnir Throne? We heard it was huge and splendid, in a barbaric sort of way, but ... " His voice trailed off, and it was seconds before he spoke again, his voice hushed. "Mirmulnir's bones, his skull protecting her, and holding her in dragon wings ... "

He turned to Arenim. "I see your people are right calling her Favored of Auri-El."

Arenim chuckled. "Of course we are, because who else could Restore us? But it is magnificent, I agree."

"The sword in Mirmulnir's jaws was placed there the day I married Nevan," Serana said quietly. "Yssha doesn't want to harm her dovah siblings, and won't unless she's forced to."

"Yssha?" Imiril asked curiously.

"Her birth name, but pretty much only her family uses it any more. Most people either call her Ysmir or use one of her titles."

"Because the Greybeards and Talos called her that?" Arenim asked.

Serana nodded. "Exactly. Now, shall we get you that tour?"

* * *

The Palace was nice enough, Imiril thought, but by the standards of his own in Alinor City, or even Dragonsreach, it was on the small side. "It seems rather modest, for someone of the Stormcrown's stature," he said, trying not to sound critical.

Serana laughed. "It's a compromise," she said. "Yssha didn't want a palace at all, and the dragons think she should have something as grand as the White Gold Tower. This was the smallest they'd accept for her. They haven't said anything I'm aware of about it, bit I think they're a bit disappointed that she prefers to live at Lakeview Manor. She really doesn't like cities, even with the improved sanitation."

"But shouldn't she live here in case she's needed as Jarl ?"

"If she's needed, she'll fly in. Otherwise, she holds audience once a week, and her steward and housecarl handle everyday things."

"That seems odd," Arenim said. "Though I suppose she has to do enough traveling for it to make sense, especially after her time in captivity."

"Uh-huh. Well, that's about it, at least for the public areas. Want to go to the inn for a snack?"

Imiril grinned. "At least enough to hold me until lunch, sure."

* * *

Nevan's estimate of the time to re-rig Andreius' saddle was fairly accurate. When he left for the stable, then to find the other five, J'Gashta was already working on another set. Unsurprisingly, he found the group at the inn, having a meal. He joined them, bringing them up to date, and offered to show them how to adjust and use the stirrups when the meal was over.

They accepted, and Arenim repeated the question she'd asked Serana about writing instruments.

Nevan nodded. "If this universe has graphite, it shouldn't be difficult to make pencils. I know clay's fairly common, and there's loads of pine. I don't know about rubber for erasers, though."

"I don't know what graphite is," Sorcalin said. "Can you describe it? We may call it something else."

"It's a semi-metallic form of carbon, the same material as charcoal or diamonds, just a different form. It makes marks, like charcoal, but it's a lot harder."

Sorcalin grinned. "Black lead, yes. We have that."

"And if rubber comes from trees, as a thick white liquid, we have that, too," Imiril said. "The trees grow in Alinor and southern Valenwood and Elsweyr."

"Pencils should be fairly easy, then." Nevan grinned. "I've mostly been concentrating on Dwemer technology, and I will be until we can use it to make Serana a replacement leg." Nevan smiled. "I'm pretty sure what worked for the spheres or Centurions can be adapted. It'll take some work, but I'm sure she'll be walking without crutches fairly soon."

"Oh, that should definitely come first!" Imiril exclaimed. "But afterward, maybe think of other things from your plane that we can use and make for ourselves?"

"Sure, though you probably have most of the low-tech things I know about. Though ... if you didn't have stirrups, what about horse collars?"

"What's that?" Andreius asked, then shook his head. "You're talking to the wrong person. Looks like we're all done, so let's go down to the stable, and talk to an expert."

* * *

"Horse collars?" Shadr repeated, his expression blank. "Here, come look at my carriage, and you tell me."

Nevan shook his head as soon as he saw the harness. "Nope. That's just a breastband and surcingle. The horse has to pull, and cuts off his own wind if he pulls too hard. The collar protects his windpipe, and lets him push, using his hindquarters, with most of the pressure against his shoulders, not his chest and throat, and it's padded. The shafts of the carriage would attach directly to the collar, with the surcingle just being a guide."

Shadr stared at him for a moment, then grinned. "Can you draw one? I'll have it made immediately."

"Sure. I can't give you too much detail, since we didn't actually use them very much; I only know about them because my clan raised horses, and tried to keep the traditional uses alive in case a colony needed them. An Amishman from New Lancaster could give you everything, but you got me instead."

"Getting you is just fine," Shadr said. "You're helping our horses, and as far as I'm concerned, that's all I need."

Nevan led Andreius' horse out of the stable and saddled him, then mounted from the left, since that was the side he wore his sword on, and he didn't want to hit the horse with it.. The horse snorted at the odd weight shift, then looked back, and Nevan patted his neck. "It's okay, boy. Come on, let's show off what you can do with proper equipment."

When he'd completed a brief demonstration, he had Andreius give the modified saddle a try, adjusting the stirrup leathers for the Imperial's longer legs. After a brief test ride, at all the horse's paces, Andreius returned to the stable and dismounted, grinning widely. "That's quite a difference, all right, and I like it. We'll have to have all our saddles modified before we start the tour."

* * *

That evening, back at Lakeview Manor, Serana snuggled up to Nevan. "I think Brelyna's mistake wasn't really one. I think at least one of the Divines was involved ... Stendarr or Zenithar, maybe both. Maybe Talos as well, since he favors you."

Nevan shrugged. "Maybe so, maybe not. Or maybe it was Mara, bringing us together." He smiled, kissing her."Gods know, I never felt this way about any of our warriors'-women. There was usually some liking, at least in-clan, but love? Hells, until I came here and met you, I wasn't sure it was even something real, except between mother and child."

"And now you know better. I do love you, my dark-skinned blond warrior, odd coloring and all. I want your child, as soon as the gods permit me."

Nevan chuckled. "Then let's just give them the opportunity, shall we?"


	8. Champions: Molag Bal

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Chapter 8 - Champions: Molag Bal

Honmund had left the Silver-Blood Inn and was walking to the general store when he noticed someone standing in front of the old abandoned house, studying the door. Curious why anyone would bother with a place that had been abandoned as long as anyone in Markarth could remember, he approached the stranger and introduced himself.

"Tyranus, with the Vigil of Stendarr," the stranger replied. "Do you know anything about this house? Seen anyone enter or leave?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Damn. It's like everyone in this city has amnesia." The Vigilant sighed. "We believe this house might have been used for Daedra worship. Evil rites and so forth."

Honmund shrugged. "In Markarth? That wouldn't be too surprising. Any idea which one?"

Tyranus shook his head. "Not yet. I was actually just about to head on inside. Be good to have someone watch my back. Follow me, and keep your eyes open. Daedra are powerful creatures and tricksters. Never know what you'll find."

Honmund hadn't intended to volunteer for anything, but he'd never encountered a Daedra, and he was curious, so he followed the other inside.

Inside, Tyranus looked around, commenting on his observations "Fresh food. No wood rot on the furniture. Someone's been here. Recently. But the people I asked say no one enters or leaves ... "

A sudden sound made him frown. "Did you hear that?" Without waiting for a reply, he headed deeper into the house. "I think it came this way."

Then Honmund heard a muttered, "Something's going on here."

When they got into the next room, Tyranus was more decisive. "That's it. Something's inside the house. Come on, we're getting to the bottom of this." He ran down a set of stairs and approached a door that turned out to be locked, shouting, "Come out! We know you're here!"

Tyranus turned to Honmund. "See if you can get this door open."

Honmund wasn't a Thieves Guild member, but he did have some experience with lockpicks and always carried a couple, but he didn't get a chance to try. The moment he touched the door, furniture and loose objects started floating, and moving around. Honmund wasn't sure what to think, but then Tyranus panicked and ran back upstairs, yelling, "Stendarr's Mercy! This isn't an ordinary Daedra. We have to get help."

Then a deep, menacing voice came from mid-air, seeming to address both of them. "It's you or me!"

The next words seemed addressed only to Honmund. "Weak. He's weak. You're strong. Crush him."

Tyranus was at the front door, clearly frightened. He encouraged Honmund to leave. "You first. Come on. Let's go."

"What in Oblivion is going on here? What's that voice?"

Tyranus ignored the questions "We're getting out of here. Now."

Honmund shrugged. The voice didn't seem all that bad, and strange as the floating furniture and other things were, they hadn't actually done anything besides, well, float and move around a bit. Still, he tried the door. "It's locked."

The voice came again. "No. Kill him. Crush his bones. Tear at his flesh. You will kill. You will kill, or you will die!"

That sounded definite enough; Honmund drew his sword, and Tyranus his mace. It was a hard-fought battle, since Honmund had to keep his foe busy enough he couldn't cast spells, and he was exhausted by the time he managed to get his blade through the Vigilant's throat.

He'd barely caught his breath when the voice spoke again, sounding amused this time. "Yes. Your reward is waiting for you, mortal. Further down."

Before he did anything else, Honmund stripped the Vigilant's body. There wasn't much, his Daedric mace being the only thing of real value. Then he went to the inside door, and found it was now unlocked. Nothing bothered him as he followed the voice through a food storage area, then a tunnel leading to a chamber with an altar and a rusty mace.

A rusty mace didn't seem like much of a reward for what he'd been through during the fight, but he might be able to get a few gold for it. As soon as he started to reach for it, though, a set of spikes erupted from the ground, surrounding him, and the voice spoke again. "Fool! Did you think Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, would so easily reward you? What do you see from that little cage? Speak."

Molag Bal, Honmund thought. He might not be the worst one, but he was no Meridia or Azura, either. Best to be extremely polite. "I see an altar, Lord."

"Yes. It's an altar. Men would come and sacrifice the wretched in my name. The weak would be punished by the strong. But a Daedric Lord has his enemies, and my rival Boethiah had her priest Logrolf the Wilful desecrate my altar. Until you came."

"And so you want me to take your revenge for you?" Frack. He was going to have to serve this Prince to get out of here, that was pretty obvious.

"Revenge? No. I want submission. I want the priest who did this to bend his knee and give me his soul. He comes by to perform Boethiah's insulting rites at my altar, but he's been missing. Captured and bound. Left to rot. Save him. Let him perform his rite one more time. And when he does, we will be waiting for him."

"Um. Where will I find this priest I'm supposed to rescue, Lord?" Honmund asked.

"Red Eagle Redoubt. The Forsworn camp."

"I know what it is, Lord, and I also know I can't fight a camp full of Forsworn by myself. Oblivion, I barely won that fight with the Vigilant! Bastard used magic, and the Forsworn have their Briarhearts."

"That is your problem, not mine. Deal with it. What use would you be to me if you can't think and fight in unfavorable conditions? And leave the Daedric mace here."

"Yes, Lord." Honmund did his best to conceal a shudder. That sounded entirely too much like this wasn't going to be a one-time thing if he succeeded, and that frightened him more than the prospect of going into a Foresworn camp alone. He might be better off if he failed ... but failure meant death, and if Bal was this interested in him, _that_ would probably mean Coldharbour at death rather than Sovngarde. About all he could probably do was put that fate off as long as possible.

The spikes withdrew, and he was free. Or, he thought bitterly, as free as he'd ever be again.

"Go, mortal. You have a task to do."

"Yes, Lord." Honmund left the chamber, going back upstairs. There was food in the house, but he was far more interested in the ale and mead. He had a couple of bottles to settle his nerves, not noticing until then that the Vigilant's body had disappeared. Well, that was good, at least.

He sighed, plans beginning to form. He'd been accurate when he'd told Bal that he couldn't possibly face a camp full of Forsworn, and his sneaking ability wasn't all that great, which meant supplementing it with invisibility potions. Lots of them, not the one or two he could afford to actually buy.

He'd have to steal them, rather than buy them, then. Too bad he'd had to leave the Daedric mace behind; he could've sold it for the money to buy the potions he'd need. Plus it was a better weapon than his steel sword, so that was another reason for hating to leave it behind. Well, the Hag's Cure would have some invisibility and healing potions, and the ingredients for more. Okay, that would be his job for the night.

* * *

He wasn't actually an alchemist, but he had learned enough to be able to make both types of the potions he needed. When he left the Hag's Cure a couple of hours before dawn, he had an ample supply of both types, none honestly obtained, but Divines ... uh, Molag Bal ... willing, enough to find and free the Boethia priest.

He'd checked his map earlier, and it looked like Red Eagle's Redoubt was three or four hours' walk from Markarth, so he went to the inn, rented a room, and asked for a two PM wake-up. After a meal, that should get him to the redoubt about dusk. Since he was no Dragonborn, to go against bad odds in broad daylight, or even a mage, able to wield mighty spells, he needed to reduce the odds against him as much as possible.

No, he thought with some bitterness. He was nothing but a moderately-successful sellsword who made a reasonable living hunting bounties and doing occasional bodyguard jobs. He'd go in at an hour when any reasonable person would be sound asleep, using his invisibility potions and hoping there'd be enough light that he'd be able to avoid tripping over anything.

The trip was uneventful, for which he thanked the Divines. He found a good spot to observe from, and spent a couple of hours watching sentry routes and times, then waited. The Forsworn seemed pretty well settled down by midnight, but he gave it another hour or so before he made his move.

He moved as cautiously as he could, sword in his right hand, an invisibility potion in his left, ready to drink if he found himself in danger of discovery. It was nerve-wracking, but he'd only had to use five of his invisibility potions before he found his bound and gagged target. He chuckled inwardly at the gag. Forsworn weren't known for that particular restraint, so Logrolf must be pretty obnoxious.

He gestured the priest to silence, and got a nod, then said softly, "I'm a sellsword, Honmund by name. Molag Bal sent me to rescue you. Can you keep your voice down? I'd really rather not get both of us killed by waking all these Forsworn."

Logrolf sneered, but nodded, so Honmund removed the gag. "A sellsword? A servant of the King of Corruption? Have the beast's standards fallen so far?" Then he shrugged. "All right. Release me - I have work to do."

"Just a moment. I'm going to give you some invisibility potions as soon as you're free. I'd suggest using them if you want to get out of here alive."

Logrolf nodded impatiently, so Honmund cut him free and handed him half a dozen potions. "Be careful, and be quiet."

Logrolf scowled, but nodded again, and left. Honmund sighed, and began retracing his steps, making it out of the redoubt maybe an hour before dawn. He made his way back to his observation point, and waited for more light.

* * *

Back in Markarth, he took an inn room for a few hours, then when he woke and ate, headed back for the subterranean altar to Molag Bal. When he got there, he found Logrolf standing before the altar and speaking. "Molag Bal. You think you can best Boethiah's faithful? I have won this contest before!"

"Ah. But I have my own champion this time, Logrolf."

Logrolf turned to Honmund and growled.: "What? You!"

Honmund shrugged. "I told you he sent me."

Molag Bal spoke. "Mortal. I give you my mace, in all its rusted spitefulness. Crush the spirit from Logrolf's bones. Make him bend to me."

The rusty one, not the Daedric he'd been told to leave? That seemed ... inefficient, at best. And Honmund wasn't at all fond of torture, but something told him that if he didn't do as he was told, he'd follow Logrolf.

The priest knelt, and the spike fence came up again. Honmund hefted the rusty mace, and began using it, reluctantly. Not surprisingly, Logrolf resisted. As Honmund used the mace, Logrolf was defiant, which earned the selllsword's respect. "I won't bend. Never!"

The yells subsided to groans.

"Do your worst, monster!"

By that time, Logrolf could barely speak at all.

"I'll never submit!" When the priest gasped out his last words, Molag Bal laughed and jeered at him.

"You mortals and your frail, limp, pathetic bodies. Try it again."

He revived Logrolf, and Honmund was forced to keep beating him. Logrolf did his best to continue resistance, but eventually, even his iron will broke, and he subsided. "No more... No more... I submit, Molag Bal. I submit!"

"You bend to me?" Molag Bal demanded.

Logrolf bent his head. "Yes ..."

"You pledge your soul to me?"

There was a brief moment of hesitation. "Yes."

Molag Bal: "You forsake the weak and pitiful Boethiah?"

"Yes!"

"You're mine now, Logrolf." He turned his attention to Honmund. "Kill him, my champion."

Honmund obeyed, reluctantly even though it would end Logrolf's suffering ... well, in this world, at least.

After that was over, the Daedric mace floated toward him, and he took it. When he'd put it on the altar, it hadn't been enchanted; now he sensed several spells had been cast on it. Soul Trap and fire for two, but he wasn't sure of the rest.

"The New Mace of Molag Bal! I give you its true power, mortal. When your enemies lie broken and bloody before you, know that I will be watching. Now, I have a soul in Oblivion that needs claiming. Take care of the house while I'm gone. I'll have more tasks for you later." Then there was demonic laughter, and Honmund sensed Bal's presence fading.

* * *

Author's Note: Cyclone Sword and I are working on a side story (which will be in a new volume) involving Sorcalin being interviewed by an Imperial scholar about being a werewolf. If you have any questions about werewolves, feel free to PM one of us, and if we haven't already dealt with that question ourselves, we'll be happy to add it.


	9. Farengar's Concerns

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Chapter 9 - Farengar's Concerns

30 First Seed, 5E 3

Farengar sighed as he approached Siddgeir's cell. He'd been told what had happened at the party, and agreed that it sounded like some sort of spell or Daedra influence. Siddgeir was both lazy and greedy, granted, but he'd never been either stupid or suicidal, the way he had acted last night.

The former Jarl looked both angry and confused when Farengar approached. "Farengar! What in the names of the Nine is going on? The guards won't tell me anything."

Farengar sighed, casting a truth spell he'd designed for just such purposes. "What do you remember about last night's party?"

"Party?" Siddgeir looked blank. "What party?"

Farengar frowned. "You remember nothing? It was a welcome-home party for Ysmir, celebrating her rescue from the Thalmor."

Siddgeir just looked puzzled. "I ... I think I remember getting an invitation for such a party, but nothing more about it. Why? Why am I in here?"

"Because you insulted, grabbed, and spat on Stormcrown," Farengar said flatly. "She tried her best to get you to stop before you went too far, but ended up having to use Voice on you. Since it was in the presence of the High King and all the Jarls, no trial was necessary. I'm just here to find out if there was any magical or Daedric influence on you."

Siddgeir lost all color in his face. "I ... I wouldn't! All right, I don't like her very much, and she's been given things that are rightfully mine, but still - !"

"You challenged her to take you in the middle of the great hall, with everyone looking on."

"Divines, no - I couldn't have!"

Farengar was certain Siddgeir believed what he was saying; his truth spell insured that. "Then I shall try to find out why you did." He cast the spell he'd designed earlier to check for Daedric influences. He wouldn't know whether or not it actually worked unless he found something, since he'd had no known Daedra to test it on, but he cast it anyway.

Yes ... a faint, mottled reddish aura appeared to emanate from the former Jarl. There didn't seem to be any current influence; this was too faint for that, more like the lingering scent of a day-dead skunk. It didn't let him identify which Prince had influenced Siddgeir, though Farengar had some ideas on the matter, since it was clearly one of the nastier ones.

"If it's any help, it seems one of the Daedric Princes took advantage of your jealousy and dislike to encourage a confrontation. Of course, since you left yourself open to that influence, the responsibility remains yours."

Then, ignoring Siddgeir's protests, he left the dungeon to report.

* * *

Farengar joined Balgruuf, Yssha, and Marcurio in the High King's office to make his report. "I couldn't determine which one, but he was definitely Daedra-touched. He had the inclination, but on his own, he wouldn't have acted on it - he had difficulty believing that he had."

Yssha sighed. "It is a shame he must be executed for something he would not have done on his own. I may despise him, but I still do not think that right."

Balgruuf shrugged. "Vampires wouldn't be bloodsuckers if they weren't infected with sanguinare vampiris, which is hardly something most people would want, and most werewolves become that by catching sanies lupinus. Few of either would willingly harm others, in their right minds, and didn't want their conditions. But when they violate the law, assaulting or murdering people, they have to be executed. How is Siddgeir any different, when he commits a different capital crime?"

"I know what must be done, but that does not mean I have to like it." She sighed again. "When is it, and is there anything I as the offended party must do?"

"At mid-morning, about another hour," Balgruuf replied. "The people will expect you to be there, but you don't have to do anything."

"Very well. But, Farengar - you could get no idea of the Daedra Lord's identity at all?"

Farengar shrugged. "Only that it's one of the nastier ones. Why?"

"Because I have learned that five of them have personal grudges against me, and I was wondering if it was one of them."

"Hmm." Farengar looked at her thoughtfully. "If you know which five, I may be able to at least eliminate one or two. Though even without that, simply from the way Siddgeir acted, I would think the likeliest culprit was Molag Bal, King of Rape and Lord of Brutality."

"He is in that group, yes, along with Vaermina, Mehrunes Dagon, Hermaeus Mora, and Mephala. Of those, I agree he is the most likely."

Balgruuf grimaced. "Any idea why those in particular are upset with you, and not ones like Boethia?"

"Well, I have asked Talos to remove four of their artifacts from Nirn, and Hermaeus Mora has been upset with me since our first meeting, when I refused to become his champion. Probably more so now since I believe I refused a second time, in Apocrypha. I cannot be sure, as we were rather distracted at the time."

Balgruuf chuckled. "It's said one can judge a warrior by the quality of the enemies he attracts," he mused. "By those particular enemies, I would have to call you the greatest warrior in Skyrim history."

Yssha made a noise something between a cough and getting rid of a hairball. "Having to dodge such enemies when this one is pregnant, even with the knowledge of Talos' assistance for her kit, is not a pleasant prospect. She will think about it, however."

"I think you'll personally be safe enough," Marcurio said thoughtfully. "They have to know you're immortal and regenerate; even the Thalmor knew that. So unless they decide to haul you to their realms, it's the ones you care for that they'll be likely to target."

"And I doubt very much they will be able to summon me," Yssha said. "Azura had to have permission from Akatosh and Talos before she could show me Moonshadow, one of the most beautiful realms of Oblivion. And she wished only to speak to me, not harm me. So yes, it is those I care for who are in danger, rather than myself."

She turned to Balgruuf. "You have already been targeted, by Mephala influencing Nelkir, and you saw Talos remove her Blade of Betrayal from Nirn. Also, Siddgeir was possessed by, perhaps, Molag Bal in your court. So you would seem to be a prime target."

Farengar scowled. "There is little a mage can do to protect against Daedra. That's a matter for priests, not mages." He sighed. "It's a matter of mana versus magica, you know."

Yssha frowned. "I know there is a difference, because when Qolaas tried to cleanse Miraak's Temple, she was told she did not have enough mana to do so, but Akatosh lent or gave her what she needed. Can you clarify?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll try." Farengar seemed to brace himself. "You all know that magica is something innate to, and, um, radiated by, all living beings, from the tiniest being to the greatest humans, mer, or Betmer, correct?"

All three nodded, so he continued. "Mana is ... not completely understood, even by the mages and priests who study it most intensively. So I will try to be as clear as I can, but if you have questions, don't hesitate."

"All right," Yssha said. "Go on."

"As we understand it so far, and I must emphasize that this is tentative, mana is magica that is freely offered to the Divines and Daedric Lords, mostly unknowingly, through worship. So magica becomes mana when it is transformed by worship. It is, we think, what sustains both the Divines and the Daedra, and what they, in turn, use to sustain Mundus, Aetherius, and Oblivion." He shrugged. "We could, of course, be wrong - but that is the current most-accepted theory."

"I understand so far," Yssha said. "But unless there are a lot more Daedra worshipers than there appear to be, I should think they would be far weaker than the Divines. They seem to have approximately equal power, however."

Farengar shrugged. "That's one of the things we have no real clue about. Sorry." He paused. "The theory I think most likely is that because the daedra have fewer worshipers, they have less mana, yes. But that means the Divines have to use more of theirs to sustain the realms, thus making the balance between Daedra and Divines equal. But it is only a theory, with no evidence pro or con."

Yssha nodded. "I understand. Which brings us to the question of how to protect possible targets, or perhaps how to get the Princes to ignore other targets and concentrate on me instead, despite the impossibility of doing me permanent harm."

Marcurio frowned. "I don't like that, dearling. Especially not now, after what the Thalmor did to you, and you being pregnant."

Yssha smiled at him. "I do not particularly _like_ it either, beloved. But is it not more logical to have an immortal as primary target, rather than mortals? And since our child is a gift from Akatosh Himself, I am sure he will be protected."

"Which means you will be too," Balgruuf said. "Since his welfare is directly dependent on his mother's condition. So for however long you're pregnant, you won't be vulnerable."

"That sounds plausible," Yssha said. Still ... "I have a Shout to slow time for myself . I have no reason to believe I cannot create another to speed it up the same way, and give birth in far less time than would normally be required."

The three men said, "No!" almost in unison, and she shook her head. "Why not? It would let me become the primary target far earlier."

"Danica said that you need to be monitored," Marcurio reminded her. "We both want a healthy child, so we shouldn't take chances."

"And there's another immortal around, you know," Balgruuf pointed out. "The Nerevarine and his friend are showing our young friend Imiril around."

"Yes, and Imiril is precisely why it must not be Andreius as the target. We dare not let the new King of Alinor become caught in any possible crossfire. The only other immortals we know of are my vahrinne, and I will not allow them to be sacrificed in my place."

"Why not?" Farengar asked, puzzled. "You can always reincarnate them if they're killed; you've done it for several of them already."

"And would you want one of your family hurt or killed, even if you could cure them afterward?" Yssha demanded.

"No ... no, of course not!"

"Then do not ask me to sacrifice my kindred. We are of different forms, true, but I am sil-briinah, or soul-sister, to every dragon who has ever existed. I would sacrifice myself willingly, were it not for my baby and husband, and my vahriinne depending on me."

"Which brings us back to the problem of how to protect those we're sure are or will be targeted," Marcurio said. "King Balgruuf, to start with."

"Farengar said that was a matter for a priest rather than a mage." Yssha turned to the High King. "I know you worship Talos, fahdoni, so I assume you wear one of his amulets."

Balgruuf nodded. "I even got Heimskr to bless it."

"That is good. I would suggest not removing it, and perhaps adding prayers whenever you think of it."

"Would you add your blessing, Ysmir?"

"I would like to, but no." Yssha shook her head. "You are already a target, and I fear that might only make you a more attractive one. But I shall pray he grant you extra protection; that should be safe enough."

Marcurio chuckled. "They can't do much about you talking to your soul-brother, hmm?"

"That is my thought, or at least my hope." Yssha smiled. "The Divines love the world they poured so much of Themselves into. I cannot see them failing to defend it and its inhabitants."

"I hope you're right," Balgruuf said.

Then there was a knock, and Irileth entered. "It's time, my King."

Yssha hid a sigh. Time for Siddgeir's execution, of course. She rose, along with Balgruuf and the others, hoping no one would notice when she closed her eyes. The sound and smell would be bad enough.


	10. Troubled Parents

Author's Note: Yes, I'm afraid this is mostly a filler chapter while I figure out where to go next, but it also carries out Yssha's promise to her parents, so I don't feel too bad about it.

* * *

Chapter 10 - Troubled Parents

8 Rain's Hand, 5E 3

Yssha heard Lokbiidaan call her, and went outside to watch him land. He was carrying three, Grams and - her parents? Yes! She ran forward when they dismounted, hugging all three, and smiled up at the dragon when he rumbled pleasure at her. "Thank you, vahriini!"

"My pleasure, thuri." He took off, leaving her to her reunion, and Yssha studied her parents.

"It is good to have you here, but should you not be at the farm?"

S'Rasha smiled. "It won't suffer from our absence. This early in Rain's Hand, weeds won't be much of a problem, and we promised payment to the neighboring children if they keep them under control while we're gone. In the meantime ... how are you? After ... you know."

"I am well, I promise you. Come inside, let me get you something. Rayya has found some excellent tisanes, or we have the usual Skyrim beverages. Breakfast, if you are hungry."

All four entered Lakeview, settling into the main hall around the dining table. Shortly afterward, they were joined by Marcurio, followed by Nevan, Serana, Valerica, and Freyr. Yssha helped Rayya serve breakfast, then both of them joined the rest.

They ate in silence for several moments, then Yssha's mother Nasha asked, "Do you have any idea how long before our grandson will be born?"

Yssha shook her head. "It is too early for Danica to even guess, other than that it is likely to be longer than a Khajiit pregnancy, and shorter than human. Perhaps somewhere between five and eight months. We do know the exact day and time of conception, so at least the length of mine will be exact. Oh, and she believes it is unlikely his form will be affected by the moons ... though that is also speculation."

S'Rasha, her father, chuckled. "With a human father, that seems a reasonable speculation." He sobered. "You're looking good, moni, and we were told you're fully recovered, and that your soul-guests, especially the three you let stay 'awake', protected you from mental damage."

"That is true," Yssha said. "Well, there is a certain amount of disturbance from what I was shown of what led up to the Dragon War, and that war itself ... but I believe that disturbance was deliberate, to encourage me to avoid Alduin's errors." She paused, then chuckle-purred. "Did you call me 'moni'?"

"I did." He grinned. "As your parents, we almost have to learn, and any dovah nearby will come down to give us lessons if we put out a red cloth. Dovahzul is becoming a status thing, with both you and your vahrinne preferring it. If you don't know at least the relationship words, you're hopelessly ignorant, and if you can't carry on a basic conversation, you're hopelessly uncultured."

Yssha snorted, almost like a dragon laugh. "Oh, dear! That is a surprise. I mean, I knew it was beginning to spread, but that extent ... well, I am pleased about that, for it is my native language, and I enjoy speaking it, rather than Common, with others."

S'Rasha nodded. "We understand that, at least intellectually, though it seems odd. But back to your welfare - how bad is that disturbance you mentioned?"

"Right now, not too bad," Yssha replied. "But while I was experiencing the memories, I was reacting to them as myself. Yet I experienced the dragon's feelings as well, and the two were often exact opposites." She shuddered at the memory. 'There were no few times I thought the physical torture would have been easier to endure."

Grams nodded soberly. "It probably would have, at that. Mental can be a lot worse than physical, and harder to recover from. I never had that problem as bad as you have, twice, but I think I can empathize."

Yssha nodded. "I think you can - my uncles, as well. And bad as it was, it could have been far worse. I do not hold Alduin's soul; Bormah Akatosh took him back to Himself. Nor do I have the souls of his closest lieutenants, since they are alive and have become my friends. And thank the Nine, unlike Alduin, I do not devour human souls, so my only knowledge of the human suffering was indirect, what I was shown from the dovah viewpoint."

She looked at her parents apologetically. "I am sorry."

Nasha smiled. "It's fine, monu. We're just glad to have you back safely. My adventuring year was relatively uneventful, and S'Rasha's Family doesn't have that tradition. So compared to Grams and you, well ... we are boring indeed."

Yssha smiled. "Believe it or not, boring can be good - and you were not, to me. Irritating at times, but I am sure I was the same to you, and the more I learn of the world, the more I learn to appreciate you. I just wish the children in the orphanages I sponsor - and the one Kiraya sponsors in Elsweyr - had parents to be irritated with."

"You have trouble finding foster parents?" Nasha asked. "With your brother and sister fostered to the Knights and the Chapel, I wouldn't mind having another couple of youngsters around." She chuckled. "But I have no desire to go through pregnancy or giving birth again! I'll leave that to the younger fems."

"Really?" Yssha was delighted. "The last time I visited the orphanage in Whiterun, a caravan had dropped off a couple of youngsters they weren't able to care for. I am sure Greta would be happy to let you interview them."

"We'll stop there on the way home, then," S'Rasha said. "A quiet house was nice for a while, but then it began to seem lonely."

"And your ... other problem?" Nasha asked delicately.

"Is ... not as bad as I had feared," Yssha replied. "With the exception of Siddgeir of Falkreath, no one has been rude or crude about it, or gotten pushy when I said no. Which, by the way, I always do if I know the man is married. I do still have standards."

"Of course you do, darling - you were properly raised, though we might have done some things differently if we'd known we were raising a dragon, and what that meant for you once you were no longer a child."

"Ko vahzin ... truly, I cannot see how that would have made an appreciable difference," Yssha said. "I would not have understood it - could not have, until I learned my first rotmulaag and then absorbed Mirmulnir's soul. Dov and vodov are simply too different. So faulting yourselves for something none of us could have comprehended would be pointless.

"Now - how long can you stay? I have much besides this estate I would like to show you, people I would like you to meet, and Turdas is the first anniversary of Alduin's defeat - there will be celebrations throughout Skyrim. I will warn you that, Nords being Nords, it will probably be rather drunk out most of the day, and certainly by evening."

"The neighbor children are quite reliable," S'Rasha said. "Even so, I wouldn't care to be gone much more than a week, so we should probably leave next Morndas."

Yssha smiled. "Thanks to dragon travel, that should be plenty of time to show and introduce you around."

* * *

They started the tour with Lakeview Manor, of course, and Yssha was delighted with her parents' reactions. Bathrooms hadn't spread as far as Cyrodiil's farms, but after her mother's reaction, Yssha was certain that was only a matter of a very short time. The toilet was the main attraction, but farms got you dirty enough that the occasional bath wasn't _that_ terrible, to get off what would be either very unpleasant or impossible with normal grooming. Heating and cooling runes? Oh, yes, and Nasha was wondering if the temperature could be controlled for cooking. Yssha made a note to ask Nevan or Serana, but she said she thought it might be possible.

Helgen was next, where they got a tour of her palace while she made a visit to J'Gashta, accepting his "comfort" happily - she liked him, and wanted him to be honest if he claimed to have comforted her.

Solitude, where she introduced them to the Radiant Raiment sisters and bought her mother a couple of dresses, then over to the Winking Skeever to meet Gulum-Ei, who presented her father with a Daedric bow and some arrows she remembered selling him earlier. Then up to the Blue Palace, where both Elisif and Falk praised her to the point her ears burned while her parents beamed.

Heljarchen Hall was next. "This was built to be a clanhome, as you can tell," Yssha said. "Plenty of room, workshops for all the crafts, and of course the same amenities as Lakeview." She smiled at Gregor, her housecarl. "How go things?"

"Very well, my Thane," he replied. "Had a giant come closer that I liked, a couple of days ago, but a Skyguard team scared him off. No damage done to anyone."

"That is good. Do you know which team?"

"I'm afraid not. An Elder, but I don't know individual markings well enough to tell that."

"Unfortunate; I would like to have complimented them on their restraint. I will speak to Franken or Dovgrahaak; they should know."

Yssha took a break there to cast warmth enchantments on her parents' clothing. "Our next stop will be at High Hrothgar," she explained, "followed by Monahven. Both are extremely cold, so you will need this protection."

* * *

To her surprise, Arngeir smiled as she led her parents into High Hrothgar, and he bowed to them. "It is good to have you here, Dovahkiin. It is a rare honor that we get to meet a Dragonborn's parents. Please, come in, and be welcome. I am the only Greybeard who can safely speak to you, so please don't expect the others to try."

S'Rasha and Nasha returned his bow. "As you say, Master Arngeir," S'rasha said. "Yssha did warn us. But this monastery is most impressive, and we would very much like to see what is permitted."

"Of course." He introduced them to Masters Einarth and Wulfgar, then showed them around, from the meditation hall and living area to the isolation room where Yssha had spent three months recovering from the soul-shock after killing Miraak and absorbing all the dragon souls he'd held. That part of the tour Yssha skipped, rejoining the group in the main hall, then going outside to the rear courtyard.

Nasha smiled at the three Greybeards before Yssha called Odahviing to fly them up to Monahven. "We are grateful for everything you've done for our daughter, Masters, perhaps more than you can know."

The three returned her smile. "It was our honor, Nasha, S'Rasha. The last Greybeards with the honor of teaching and acknowledging a Dragonborn lived over six centuries ago. We were simply fortunate to be here at the right time for her."

"Nevertheless, our gratitude remains," S'Rasha said with a purr.

Arngeir nodded. "We understand. Now farewell, and enjoy your visit with Paarthurnax." The Greybeards returned to the monastery, and Yssha called her friend.

* * *

The flight was a very short one, which Yssha couldn't help contrasting with her first trip, constantly clearing Paarthurnax's protective mist, and shivering despite her own fur, and a fur coat over her armor. This was definitely much nicer!

When they landed, she introduced her parents, and was pleased when they greeted her mentor with, "Drem yol lok, Paarthurnax!"

"Drem yol lok, Dovahkiinro bormonah - Dovahkiin's parents. It is an honor and a pleasure to meet you."

"And ours to meet you," S'Rasha said. "She has spoken much about her mentor and first dovah friend, though we had the impression you looked much older."

"When we first met, I did," Paarthurnax said. "After all, I had spent four millennia perched on this mountain, leaving only for the briefest of hunts, and dov deteriorate under such conditions. Once she defeated Alduin and I was able to fly and hunt freely, I began the regeneration that is normal to dov. I am almost totally back to my prime condition."

"Which pleases me no end," Yssha said. "I was concerned about you for some time there, especially when you helped Marcurio and me fight Alduin right after I learned Dragonrend." She smiled at her mentor. "I have not had to use it since Viinyolbrii, and Dragonbane rests in Mirmulnir's jaws. I pray it may remain there."

"As do we all," Paarthurnax agreed. "Speaking of Alduin, what are your plans for the anniversary?"

"I will start with an audience in Helgen to remember the town's destruction and celebrate the rebuilding. After that, Marcurio and I have invitations to attend celebrations in all the other Holds, so the rest of the day will be spent doing that. Fortunately for the two of us, it is almost exclusively a Skyrim celebration - we can only spread ourselves so thin!"

Paarthurnax snorted a laugh. "You will survive, fahdoni. Oh, and congratulations on your coming child. His birth will be great cause for us to celebrate, even though he will be joor."

"Really?" Nasha said. "That seems odd."

Paarthurnax rumbled with amusement. "Why? It will be the first time in dov history that a thur has been a parent. Alduin sky-danced innumerable times, but never had any desire for offspring, so he fathered none. That means Dovahkiin's infant is a great event for us."

"There's no need to go everywhere you want to show us in one day," S'Rasha said then. "It's midday, and I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm hungry!"

Paarthurnax rumbled again. "Go, then - I would not keep you from a meal! We can hold more tinvaak some other time, if you wish. Any dovah who looks to Dovahkiin as thur will be happy to fly her parents wherever you wish to go."


	11. Geirmund's Hall

.

Chapter 11 - Geirmund's Hall

Andreius and his party were approaching Ivarstead to show Imiril and Arenim the start of the Seven Thousand Steps, then they planned to stop at the Vilemyr Inn for lunch. Andreius had to admit that the base of the Steps wasn't terribly impressive, but he'd explained their significance, and they ground-reined their horses long enough to climb to and read the first plaque, which Imiril did.

"Before the birth of men, the dragons ruled all Mundus. Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs. For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land."

He frowned. "That doesn't say very much."

"It's the first of ten," Andreius said, "but even so, they give only the barest of outlines - about all that's possible on ten fairly small stones. You can get a more complete history from one of the older dragons, if you want. We're not dressed or equipped to take you much further, so let's get back to the Inn and grab a meal."

"You don't have to say that twice." Imiril grinned. "I sometimes think I could eat a steer, all by myself. I'm hungry most of the time."

As they headed back downhill, Sorcalin laughed. "I went through the same thing at your age - my mother complained that my stomach must be a bottomless pit. Don't worry, I'll get Wilhelm to make you some of his special meat-and-bread hand meals for the rest of the trip. Once we get to Riften, Keerava at the Bee and Barb is an excellent cook."

"I'll look forward to that." Imiril grinned. "I plan to try as many Nord dishes and drinks as I can, but I already know the Palace cook is going to have to learn at least venison stew, and the brewery to make mead."

Andreius chuckled. "Then you might want to start collecting recipes of dishes you like. There are plenty of variations just in Skyrim, and a good cook - like a Palace cook has to be - tends to fiddle with recipes. You might have to pay, but that shouldn't be a problem. On the other hand, you could try the dishes your own people, outside the aristocracy, eat."

"I know we had various stews and ale or beer instead of wine," Sorcalin said. "Quite good, too. Though I didn't taste mead until I got to Skyrim. And Morrowind has sujamma and matze; you can try those when we visit Solstheim."

"Oh, I will!" Imiril said enthusiastically. They mounted and headed back over the stone bridge, then dismounted at the inn, hitched their horses, and went inside. "What was that odd structure just outside town?" Imiril asked as they found seats.

"Hmm? Oh. Shroud Hearth Barrow," Andreius replied. "Yssha and Grams cleared it out last year. Nothing to see there, unless you like looking at ancient architecture."

"Not particularly, but I'd like to see a real Nord or Dwemer ruin that hasn't been gutted."

An older woman came by then. "Take your orders, gentlemen?"

"Ale and whatever's hot for me," Andreius said.

"Same here," Sorcalin agreed. "Hmm. Do you have Black-Briar mead?"

The woman nodded. "It's costly, though. Want that instead of the ale?"

"No, but I think our young friends might like to try it. Imiril, Arenim - your food?"

He turned to the woman. "What's your hot, then?"

"Slaughterfish stew."

"I'd like to try that, I think."

"What do you have for cold meats?" Arenim asked. "Any kind of bird, perhaps?"

The woman smiled. "Odmer always ask that, so we make it a point to keep some on hand. Chicken's the least expensive, but pheasant is better ... snow goose, if you don't mind a bit of a greasy taste."

"Fat is good for Odmer," Arenim said with a smile. "We need the insulation. So cold snow goose on bread, please."

The woman grinned. "With butter?"

"Please!"

* * *

Imiril liked the Black-Briar mead even more than the regular version, but was disappointed when Andreius told him it was only brewed at two meaderies in Skyrim. And the slaughterfish stew was excellent as well - tasty, and - like the venison stew he'd had earlier - more substantial than what he was used to.

When they were done, Andreius studied Imiril. "You want to investigate a Nord or Dwemer ruin, hmm? Sor and I have observed your training, which is pretty impressive and definitely oriented toward combat, not display. But have you ever been in real combat, rather than what we saw?"

Imiril snorted. "As if I'd be allowed anything like that! No. My instructors are tough on me because they were ordered to be, and I know that tough training is good doctrine and may save your life when things get real. But that's it."

"And he's better than I am, for all I'm a bodyguard," Arenim said ruefully. "I've had this body for less than a year, so I'm still training both combat and magic skills. My instructors say I'm doing well at both, but I fear I'm the weak link in this group. Except for Odkiinbrii when we're outside, and that's him, not me."

Andreius smiled, then caught Wilhelm's eye and waved him over. "Are there any Nord or Dwemer ruins that haven't been cleared out between here and Riften?"

"Uncleared ones? Hmm." Wilhelm paused. "The only one I can think of that meets both conditions is Geirmund's Hall, on the island in the middle of Lake Geir. It looks like a cave, but stories say it's a barrow, resting place of one of Gauldur's sons." He shrugged. "I'm not too much on history, and Divines know I was wrong warning the Dragonborn about a ghost in Shroud Hearth Barrow. But no one here's seen anything around the Hall."

"Thanks. Does anyone rent boats so we can get out there? And is there some place we can leave our horses while we check it out?"

Wilhelm smiled. "You can leave the horses here. I don't have a real stable, but I have a shed out back they'll fit in, and I'll make sure they're fed and cared for for two gold a day each."

"That sounds reasonable, but what about a boat?"

Wilhelm laughed. "Have you actually looked at 'Lake' Geir? At its deepest, it's chest-high on a Khajiit. Maybe wade out in your smalls or a light robe for the lady, with your armor on a towed float. You'll be fine."

Andreius chuckled. "That would simplify things, yes. All right, it's a deal, if you can get us floats by morning."

"Two gold extra, and you'll have them."

X

Shortly after breakfast the next morning, the four were wading toward Geirmund's Hall, towing their armor. Once they reached the island, they took the time to dry off, then armored up, and moved toward the cave entrance.

Imiril followed his instructors, with Arenim behind him. A short passage led to a cave, where they found the body of an adventurer. While Sorcalin was searching him, a couple of skeevers attacked. Andreius got one, and Imiril grinned as he killed the other.

"Nothing but a book and a few gold," Sorcalin reported when he straightened.

"And it looks like the only way forward is through that pool," Andreius said. He led the way, with Imiril following closely, the other two behind him. They found a bit of loot in the form of some gold, a common soul gem, a potion of waterbreathing, and a rusty iron sword they didn't bother with.

Wooden steps led out of the water and up to an iron door. That opened onto a corridor festooned with spiderwebs, the largest Imiril had seen. They had to be from the giant frostbite spiders Andreius had briefed him about the previous evening, so he was ready when one attacked him. Sorcalin's lightning took it down before he got his ice spears ready to cast, and the mage grinned at him. "Better keep that spell ready to go," he advised. "We may run into more spiders, and since Wilhelm said this was supposed to be a barrow, draugr as well. They aren't terribly fast, but there are usually quite a few of them."

"Just hope we don't run into any that can Shout," Andreius said, taking down a second huge spider. Then he pointed to a chest on a nearby shelf. "Do you know how to pick locks?" he asked Imiril.

"I'm afraid not," the young King admitted. "None of that sort of thing at all. And I'm not very good at stealth, either."

"That's too bad. But let me disarm this trap, and we'll see if there's anything worth grabbing in here." Andreius suited action to words as he continued. "Those are all useful skills for an adventurer, but since that's not what you're going to be doing with your life, I suppose you won't need them."

The chest held a couple of hundred in gold, two amethysts, and a flawless ruby. He handed Imiril the ruby. "Keep this as a souvenir - we might find something better, but if not, you can have this made into a ring or something."

"Thank you."

They went on, dodging a pressure plate and going down some stairs into a flooded area where Andreius pointed out some markings on the wall. "See those? Hawk, whale, snake, and whale?"

Imiril nodded. "One of those puzzles you mentioned? The kind that have pillars you have to set to those marks?"

Andreius nodded. "And this is a catacomb, so there will be draugr. Stay alert."

"Yes, sir." Imiril looked around, seeing a triangular pillar to his left. He was approaching it when a gray, dead-looking thing rose from the water and attacked. He cast his ice spears, then had to ward himself from a flame spell. The draugr got closer, and Imiril stepped forward, his sword going for its neck. The draugr tried to parry with its axe, but Imiril dodged that by changing the path of his attack. It slowed him enough that the sword went only partway through the draugr's neck, but that proved to be enough, and it went down.

Since this was the first pillar they'd come to, Imiril turned it so the hawk image faced the triangle on the pillar's base, then turned to see Andreius battling another while Sorcalin and Arenim fought a third. He waded toward Andreius, but by the time he got his spell recharged, Andreius had his foe down and was turning the second pillar to the whale symbol.

The two of them left Sorcalin and Arenim to finish off the third draugr, and went on to the fourth pillar - which, naturally, was defended by a fourth draugr. With two against one from the beginning, it didn't last long, and Andreius asked Sorcalin, who was approaching with Arenim, "You got the pillar?"

"Snake, yes. This one's whale again, then there's a lever off to the right."

"Okay." When Andreius grinned at him, Imiril moved the final pillar to the proper position, then pulled the lever. That opened a door to a corridor-like tunnel. Imiril saw a soul gem on a table, and started to reach for it, but Sorcalin stopped him. "It's on a pressure plate - that means it's a trigger for some sort of trap."

"That mammoth skull, probably." Arenim pointed to it, high in the shadows. "It looks like it's aimed right at the table."

Sorcalin nodded. "That looks like it, all right. Let's get out of range, and I'll retrieve the gem with telekinesis." When he did that, sure enough, the mammoth skull swung down, with enough force to seriously injure, if not kill, whoever had picked the soul gem up by hand.

Imiril let out a sigh. "Thanks for stopping me!"

"You're quite welcome." Sorcalin grinned. "If you'd had as much experience as I have, you'd have spotted it easily. But you're a couple of centuries too young for that."

"And if not for you, I might not have gotten any older," Imiril said soberly. "Alinor owes you a debt, and so do I, personally."

"Don't worry about it. Come on, let's keep going."

This time Sorcalin took the lead, into another open area where they saw a draugr at the bottom of a ramp. Four spells hit it at once, and it went down. Arenim chuckled. "This is fun, but the way you two cast spells, I can see I have a lot to learn."

"You're doing fine, for someone who's less than a year old in your current form," Andreius assured her. "Ah, do you remember anything from before your Restoration?"

She shuddered. "No, thank Auri-El! It's a strange sensation, being essentially born into an adult body knowing you were something else and not wanting to remember your previous existence. It was an act of mercy on His part, we believe. And being fahliille, we - and I - will have the time to learn."

"Um - there are more draugr up that ramp," Imiril said, pointing. "Shouldn't we take care of those first?"

"Uh-huh." Andreius led the way up the ramp, and since all four had spells ready, the two draugr at the top had no more chance than the one at the bottom had had. What they found was a well-preserved skeleton on a bier, a key in one hand, and an epitaph.

Imiril read that. "Lord Geirmund, Archmage of Windhelm, Lord Battlemage to King Harald.

"Magus, keep thy vigil eternal.

"Serve now in death as you did in life.

"By these seals our realm preserve.

"From traitors three and their charm of strife."

Imiril paid his respects to one who'd earned such a barrow and epitaph, even though he had no real idea who Geirmund was, taking only the key so they could continue.

They kept going, with occasional encounters with draugr, until they came to a room with the floor submerged. It had several raised platforms in the main area, and a raised larger area to one side, with a sarcophagus at its center. As they were climbing to what looked like the main area, the sarcophagus burst open and a ... well, it almost had to be a draugr, but it looked human - burst out. Almost instantly. he 'ported elsewhere, and two near-duplicates appeared.

Near-duplicates, but not exact ones, and Arenim spotted the difference immediately. "The one in the horned helmet is the original!" she shouted, and all of them concentrated on that one. It was a long battle, but with four against one and the true opponent known, not as bad as it could have been.

When the battle was over and they'd retrieved an amulet fragment from the body, Imiril sighed. "This was ... kind of fun, but I don't think I'd care to do it very often. I suppose I'm not the born adventurer the rest of you seem to be."

"Nothing wrong with that," Andreius told him. "I wasn't, either. I was quite a peaceable type, actually, when I was arrested on false charges and sent to Morrowind to test the Nerevarine prophecy. I never expected to prove it, and there were a number of times I wished I'd refused. These days, I'm glad I didn't, but back then ... well, it was sometimes a struggle with myself to keep going. Adventuring for a living isn't what the tales make it out to be."

Imiril shook his head in near-disbelief. "I'm - you're him? The Nerevarine, legendary hero of the Dunmer? Killer of Dagoth Ur?"

"And indirectly of Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil, when they lost their divinity with the vanishing of the Heart of Lorkhan," Andreius confirmed. "I learned to be an adventurer in the process, and I still sometimes wonder that I managed to survive the learning."

Imiril shook his head again. "The Dominion never had a chance, did it? Not with the Nerevarine, Faal Mungrohiik, the Champion of Cyrodiil, and Dovahkiin teamed up against it."

"No, not once we got together," Andreius said. "But we were talking about adventuring."

"And I think it was my turn," Arenim said. "I'm not an adventurer at all. Nor, after this, do I think I'd want to be. Unlike many, if not most, Odmer, I'm a lot happier above ground, preferably in the air."

"Let's check for loot and get back outside, then," Andreius said with a smile. "Places like this usually have a shortcut out."

"There's a tunnel behind the sarcophagus," Sorcalin said, "but I don't see much in the way of loot."

Andreius shrugged. It wasn't like he, Sorcalin, or Imiril needed the money, though he was sure Arenim could make use of some spare coin. On the way out, though, they found an unlocked chest with gems, an enchanted Daedric dagger, and almost five hundred gold. Arenim wouldn't take more than a quarter of the gold, but did accept three of the gems and the dagger, when the others insisted.

* * *

Oblivion

Once Molag Bal reported that he'd recruited a champion, although not one he had a very high opinion of, and successfully created a new version of his Mace, the other four who were plotting against the Dragonborn made that a priority as well. Molag had succeeded first, so he would have the honor of making the first move against her. That, he decided, would be done on the anniversary of her greatest triumph.


	12. Celebration I

.

Chapter 12 - Celebration I

The morning after their investigation of Geirmund's Hall, the four rode on to Riften. It was a beautiful morning for a ride, which was good, since it was almost an eight-hour ride. They arrived in late afternoon, dropped their horses off at the stable, and entered the city.

To Andreius' surprise, Maul wasn't leaning on his usual post just inside the gate, but Mjoll and Aerin were on a bench across the street. Andreius greeted them, then asked, "Where's Maul?"

"You hadn't heard?" Mjoll asked. "When Maven became Jarl of the Rift, she took Maul as her housecarl. He spends most of his time in Mistview Keep these days."

"Maven? Jarl? Poor Rift!"

"You might be surprised," Mjoll said. "There's a new Thieves Guildmaster no one will talk about, even drunk, and he keeps Maven's greed in check somehow. Theft in the Rift is down, even though word is the Guild is thriving again." She smiled. "I don't know how he does it, but I'm glad. Oblivion, even the Imperials are happy they have the Guild helping with non-Guild thieves. Scarcely a day goes by that there isn't at least one found tied up and tossed at the bottom of the Keep's steps."

"That's good, then." He'd keep Yssha's identity as Guildmaster secret, of course, but ... "What about what's-her-name at Honorhall Orphanage? The one I heard was mistreating the orphans?"

Mjoll's expression became impassive. "She had an accident several months ago. Fell into the lake from the upper level. Constance Michel took over administration, and the Dragonborn began sending financial assistance. Kids are only there until Constance can find suitable adoptive parents for them, now." She grinned. "So some things are getting better, but the Ratway still stinks something awful. Maven hasn't even started planning for toilets and sewage treatment."

Andreius snorted. "That sounds like the Maven I know and don't love. Any other news you think I ought to know?"

"Hmm." Mjoll looked thoughtful. "Well, Brynjolf's still vending his fake cures in the central market, but his heart doesn't seem to be in it any more, maybe because the Guild is doing so much better."

"Could be. Does Madesi still have a stall in the so-called Grand Plaza?"

"He does indeed. Any particular reason?"

Andreius smiled. "Not for me, but I'd like to take Imiril to see him. Could you take the others to the Bee and Barb for a bit? We'll join you later."

"Certainly." Mjoll smiled. "If you two will come with me? The Bee and Barb is really quite nice."

* * *

The party split up, Imiril following Andreius, the rest going with Mjoll. As they left, Imiril turned to his mentor. "What is it, Andreius? Why are we going to a stall in such a ... um ... less than attractive city?"

"Because Madesi is probably the best jewelry-smith I know. And unless I'm seriously mistaken, you're interested in Arenim. A nice piece of jewelry might well get her to return your interest."

Imiril chuckled. "Even though I'm not a dragon? It's worth a try, at least. That flawless ruby you gave me, perhaps?"

"Maybe, but I'm not the expert. Come on, let's talk to Madesi."

Not long after, they were at the Argonian's stall, and he gave them a wide, toothy grin. "Whan may I do for you, my friends?"

"A courting-gift," Andreius said. "Not for me, of course. But my young Altmer friend ... "

Madesi's attention went to Imiril. "What is her coloring? And do you have anything special you want me to use?"

"She's Odmer ... very pale, skin and hair both. I have a flawless ruby I'd like to give her, but beyond that, I'll defer to your expertise."

"Hmmm." Madesi tapped his snout thoughtfully. "Skin and hair both very pale, and a flawless ruby ... in silver, that would be too much contrast. Does she have a preference in clothing?"

"I don't know if it's exactly a preference," Imiril said. "But she's a Skyguard, so she usually wears gilded Elven armor and a red surcoat."

Madesi gave an Argonian laugh. "So! That simplifies things. A necklace would get lost, but a gold circlet with the ruby as a centerpiece ... that should bring out your love's beauty very nicely. Now, I assume you're in something of a hurry?"

"Since we're traveling, I'm afraid so," Imiril replied.

"It will take me a couple of hours," Madesi said. "Are you going to be here for tomorrow's celebration?"

Imiril looked inquiringly at Andreius, who nodded. "I've got a few other people I'd like to say hello to, so we'll probably be here for a couple of days."

Madesi smiled. "Excellent. I should be able to have it finished by morning."

"That would be wonderful," Imiril said, returning the smile and handing him the ruby.

They left Madesi to his work then, heading toward the Bee and Barb. As they passed Brynjolf's stall, though, he called to Andreius. "What's up with you and Sor traveling with a couple of mer? Last I heard, you were playing general over in Imperial City. Or were the two of you involved in the invasion of Alinor? That sounds like something you'd do if you got bored."

"Well, we rescued the Dragonborn first, but yes, we were in on the assault on the Palace."

"And word is you're the Nerevarine and he's Faal Mungrohiik." Brynjolf smiled crookedly. "I knew the first time we met that you two were hiding something, but I'd never have guessed your real secrets." He grinned at Imiril. "You're hiding something too, lad, but I'm not even going to try guessing. The only honest-seeming one in the bunch appears to be the Odmer lass."

"Accurate as usual, Bryn." Andreius grinned. "And thanks for being discreet. What's your latest news about Yssha?"

"Just that she was free, and not denying what the damn Thalmor claimed about her." Brynjolf scowled. "Bastards."

"Agreed," Imiril said. "But the Thalmor, as a political faction, no longer exists."

Andreius hid a sigh. Youngsters, blurting things out! So he quickly changed the subject. "Ah, she and Marcurio are expecting a son. Of their own, not adopted."

"Really?" Brynjolf looked momentarily disbelieving, then he got a wide smile. "The Divines decided she'd put it off long enough, huh? Good. She's wanted that for a long time."

"Yes. I don't know if Maven will announce it, so would you get the word around to her friends? It'll be another reason to celebrate."

"Gladly! And I've got some news for her, as well. A number of our clients complain about having to visit the Cistern or Ragged Flagon for contract negotiations, so we ... um ... got together and convinced Maven that it'd be in her best interest to give us Riftweald Manor."

Andreius stared at him, then began laughing. "Brynjolf, you are a conniving wonder! No surprise I like you. Moving headquarters, are you?"

"Yup. Permanent move for me, Delvin, Karliah, Vex, and Dirge. The rest will visit from time to time. Me, I'm just as glad for it myself. A day or so out of there, and the stench will curdle your nose."

Andreius chuckled. "No kidding! Join us for a drink?"

"Sure - it's not like I'm selling much anyway. I mostly keep the stall to listen for gossip and scope out talent these days."

In the Bee and Barb, they found Sorcalin and Arenim at a corner table, with an amused-looking Maul talking to them. "You won't?" Sorcalin was saying.

"Oblivion, no! Pisses Maven off no end, but word just came that His Majesty has named Faal Mungrohiik a Friend of the Empire - you can transform in the middle of town and no one can touch you. Divines, it's beautiful. A werewolf under Imperial protection? And traveling with a gorgeous young Odmer? I thought the end times were over when Ysmir killed Alduin."

"Arenim is safe from me," Sorcalin said, "From you, too, for that matter."

"Got it. Or I face your other self." Maul smiled at Arenim. "I'm the Jarl's housecarl - you're under my protection as well as Sorcalin's. Anyone gives you a problem, just come to me."

Arenim smiled. "I thank you, and as long as it's in the city, I will. Outside, though, I have other protection."

Then Maul sighed as Maramal entered. "Hope you're either devout or have the ability to not-listen to preaching ... he comes here every evening. I think he means well, but a tavern isn't really the place."

"It is fine," Arenim said softly. "While I would not call myself particularly devout, I do enjoy listening to the priests and priestesses talking about the Divines. And where better to preach to those who avoid temples or chapels?"

Maramar had evidently heard her, because he approached with a smile. "Quite right. And do you have a particular devotion to any of Them, my daughter?"

"Auri-El, of course," Arenim replied. "And like all my folk, to His Daughter, She Who Restores. Though she emphasizes that she is not a true Divine, she doesn't deny us that privilege."

Maramal smiled. "I was honored to marry her and her husband. I am ... in wonder at what she has become since that time." He smiled. "So are you interested in marriage, daughter?"

"Of course, eventually, when I find the right man or mer. But I am far too young, by Altmer custom, to marry. In another ten years, perhaps."

Maramal chuckled. "You expect either biology or Lady Mara to abide by your custom? My child, She has Her own priorities, and age has little to do with those. Her Will is that if you are old enough to be a parent, you are old enough to marry ... and should."

"You said Altmer custom," Sorcalin observed. "But you're Odmer, not Altmer. What's your custom?"

Arenim thought about that, frowning. "That's odd," she said. "You know Auri-El includes knowledge of our culture when Ysmir Restores us?"

Sorcalin and Andreius both nodded.

"That includes at least an outline of our history, it seems."

Andreius nodded. "Of course - history's a vital part of culture. So go on."

"I'm not clear on all the reasons our ancestors split off from the Altmer and moved to Skyrim, but as we interacted with the Nedic peoples, we picked up some of their customs, such as courtship and marriage earlier than the Altmer ... more like the human Nedes, who gradually became the Nords." She turned to the priest. "So it seems Odmer practices agree with Lady Mara."

"Which leaves me the odd one out," Imiril said with resignation.

"Why?" Brynjolf asked, his expression innocent. "The Summerset Isles - excuse me, Alinor - is part of the Empire again. So no one could fault you for abiding by Imperial customs, even about the ages for majority and marriage."

Imiril wasn't sure he wanted to protest - that would simplify a great number of things - but he felt honor-bound to do so. "My parents always said I had to set an example of Altmer propriety, and that they'd arrange a suitable marriage when the time came."

"I was right - a noble." Brynjolf chuckled, earning himself a frown from Andreius. "Oh, you don't look it, in that scaled armor, but to someone with the eyes to see, it's obvious in your bearing. Still, even an Altmer noble can't be faulted for following the Stormcrown's example. She was legally adult at sixteen, married by her own decision at eighteen, but had to wait until she'd taken care of some responsibilities to get pregnant." He cocked his head. "Just how old are you, lad?"

"Twenty, as of not quite a month ago."

"So four years an adult, according to the Empire. And if what I understand of Altmer society's right, another ten years, by theirs." Brynjolf grinned at Andreius. "You need to have a real heart-to-heart with the lad, my friend."

"I think you've taken care of most of it," Andreius replied. "But yes, maybe later."

* * *

11 Rain's Hand 5E 3, Morning, Helgen

Yssha hated making speeches, but this one was hard to find an excuse to avoid. So when the crowds had gathered and the appointed time came, she rose from the Mirmulnir Throne, wearing the dragonscale armor she'd worn when she, Marcurio, and the Tongues had defeated Alduin, with Marcurio beside her in his dragonbone. And for this ceremony, Dragonbane was again at her side.

"Greetings, everyone. Here is where it began, on the seventeenth of Last Seed, in Year 201 of the Fourth Era - now the first year of the Fifth Era. I was a prisoner, with my head on the execution block, when Alduin made his presence unmistakably known and destroyed Helgen, I was able to escape thanks to Hadvar, now Captain of Skyhold's Guards.

"My adventures since have become the fodder for songs and tales." She smiled, wryly. "Some were accurate, some less so, and even more with only accidental connections to anything having to do with truth. Unfortunately, the latter are the most popular." She chuckle-purred. "At any rate, the basic story is well-known, and I need not repeat it. A year ago today, Marcurio and I joined the first three Tongues in Sovngarde to defeat Alduin, and Dragon-Father Akatosh reclaimed his soul.

"Not too long after, I was granted Helgen as part of Skyhold, and began rebuilding it." She gestured widely, taking in the whole city. "I did the basics, but you, citizens of Skyhold, have made her what she is today. In honor of the victory last year that made all of this possible, I join with High King Balgruuf in celebrating Alduin's Defeat and the new partnership of vodov and dov. Now ... " she touched Marcurio's hand, and he took over for the last bit.

"Eat, drink, and be merry! For tomorrow we will all have bellyaches and be hung over."

That got a hearty laugh, and Yssha called Odahviing after most of the crowd dispersed to do exactly that. She, Marcurio, Serana and Nevan would make a tour of the Holds, visiting briefly.

As she was mounting, though, a man in the crowd caught her eye, raising a tankard to her in salute and grinning. Then he took a drink and vanished. She blinked. That had been Sam Guevenne, the form Sanguine usually took in Mundus. What did that mean? Why had he made himself known? He wasn't one of the ones acting against her, so ... was he perhaps letting her know she had an unexpected ally?

She shrugged, settling onto Odahviing's neck. She'd settle for him not acting against her, and given his sphere of influence, it was possible he simply found her entertaining these days. It didn't seem to matter, really.


	13. Celebration II

Author's Note: Guest - the chapter length depends on what's happening, and mostly that works out to about two thousand words. Less is unlikely, but you'll occasionally get more. But while I could pad them out, I'm not really willing to add words just for the sake of making a chapter longer. Also, I'm not a very fast writer, so posting frequency would be cut back.

* * *

Chapter 13 - Celebration II

11 Rain's Hand 5E 3, Morning, Riften

The next morning, they'd barely ordered breakfast when Madesi entered the Bee and Barb, approaching Imiril and handing him a carefully and attractively wrapped package. "Best of luck in your quest, landstrider."

"Thank you." Imiril smiled, putting the package in his lap before he turned to Brynjolf, who'd joined them. "What celebrations are planned? I mean, this is the first anniversary of the day Dovahkiin defeated Alduiin, so it should be rather spectacular."

The Guild-Second snorted. "Not if it were up to Maven. She's ... um, never mind. But Mjoll took over preparations, with the Guild providing funding, and it should be pretty nice. Free food and booze all day, which is how Nords like to party."

Andreius couldn't hide his astonishment. "Mjoll and the Guild, working together on _anything_? That's damn near impossible to believe."

"Actually, she's not as down on us, since the Impies garrisoning the city and Hold appreciate our help keeping the free-lancers under control. I think she's finally realized that we think of Riften as our home, too, and prefer to do most of our jobs in other holds. So when she started setting up the celebration, and we knew she couldn't afford to finance it, I offered, and she accepted."

"And I heard someone in Guild armor and a mask returned Grimsever," Andreius said. "That must've helped her opinion of you."

"Yeah. If I ever find out who did it, he gets a bonus. A _big_ bonus."

Sorcalin hid a chuckle. He and Andreius had offered to take on some of Yssha's uncompleted tasks while she was in Thalmor captivity and they were waiting for "the sign" - that one, involving the Dwemer ruin of Mzinchaleft, had been a challenge, but they'd recovered both Grimsever and Mjoll's shield, coming out with quite a bit of loot, as well. Marcurio had sent his porters in to retrieve the heavy stuff, which had helped make it one of their more profitable expeditions.

Why Andreius had stolen a set of Guild armor to return Mjoll's property, Sorcalin didn't know, and thought it the better part of discretion not to ask. Oblivion, for all he knew, it had been Azura's idea the whole time, or something her sister Nocturnal asked as a favor. Supposedly the two didn't usually get along, but on the other hand ... sisters.

"So when is this celebration to start?" Arenim asked.

"As soon as the morning watch takes over for the night shift," Brynjolf said. "Shouldn't be long now. Is that the closest to party clothes you have with you?"

"I'm afraid so," Imiril said. "Well, with one exception ... " He gave Arenim the package he'd been holding. "A beautiful young lady needs at least one piece of jewelry for a party, wouldn't you agree? It doesn't really go with scaled armor, but for a party - "

Arenim flushed, but accepted the package as the men agreed. She undid the ties, then gasped when the circlet Imiril had commissioned was revealed. "It's beautiful!"

"It is indeed," Imiril agreed. He'd expected a simple piece, rather like a Jarl's circlet, especially given the limited time, but Madesi must have spent all night on this! Yes, the shape was basic, and the circlet held only the one gem, but there were engravings all around it, including a dragon curled around the ruby, more stylized designs elsewhere. "Try it on, please - does anyone have a mirror?"

Keerava rummaged behind her bar, then approached and handed Arenim a hand-mirror. "Hold still a moment, child ... let me arrange your hair a bit."

Arenim wanted to protest that she wasn't a child, but ... well, she didn't know. She'd only been Restored less than a year, so while she wasn't physically a child, she could still be young enough for an adult to call her that.

When Keerava was satisfied with Arenim's hair, she took the circlet and arranged it so the Odmer's silvery hair held the gold circlet in place. "Take a look, my dear."

Arenim caught her breath. "That ... that can't be me - ?"

The men at her table grinned at each other, then smiled at her. Imiril was too stunned to speak, so he just nodded when Andreius said, "It is you, Arenim. Even in drab armor, with your hair nicely arranged and a bit of jewelry, you're beautiful. Give you a gown matched to your coloring, and a bit of makeup, and you'll have men panting."

The watch-change horn sounded, and they rose, going outside. Jarl Maven was nowhere to be seen, but Mjoll had climbed onto the wall surrounding the Grand Plaza, and was gesturing at the tables of food and drink laid out in and around it.

"Welcome to Riften's first celebration of the Dragonborn's victory over Alduin! Much as it pains me to say it, the festivities have been provided by the Thieves Guild, rather than our Jarl - but enjoy yourselves anyway, and sing the praises of Ysmir Dovahsebrom!"

The crowds cheered, and the volume increased as dragons passed over, the well-known Odahviing landing just outside the gate so his riders could dismount. As soon as the four were inside the walls, four bards began singing "Battle in Sovngard," and Yssha winced. They weren't bad - rather good, in fact - but it had become almost as wearing on her nerves as "The Dragonborn Comes."

Then she spotted Imiril, with Arenim, Sorcalin, and Andreius, and began making her way to them, her team following.

As she got closer, she saw Arenim's circlet, and smiled. Her uncles wouldn't intrude on even a possible courtship, so that had to be from Imiril. When she got within speaking distance - quite close, in the noisy crowd - she smiled again. "Courting, my friends?"

Imiril nodded firmly. "I've been told Altmer courting ages are ... displeasing to Mara, putting off marriage and children to where they almost have to be illegitimate if natural urges are followed. It still seems too early to me, the way I was raised, but ... "

"But she is beautiful, and you are a young man." Yssha smiled sympathetically. "Would it ease your conscience if one of your sovereigns were to assure you marriage at your age is quite normal by Imperial custom, and delaying it as Altmer do is seen as unnatural?"

Imiril swallowed hard, looking at Arenim. Seeing her expression, he nodded. "Yes, Majesty, it would. But ... now what?"

"Do either of you have Amulets of Mara?"

When both shook their heads, she chuckled. ""That is easy enough to remedy. I will be back shortly." A quick trip to the Temple of Mara later, she returned with two amulets, and gave one to each of them. "You wear these when you are ready to marry, then visit the Temple and talk to Brother Maramar or Priestess Dinya Balu. You will have to wait a day to be sure it is what you really wish, but then you may be wed."

Arenim and Imiril exchanged glances, then Arenim bowed her head briefly. "Could you not do it? As Favored of Auri-El, you must be the equivalent of a priestess."

"I do not know," Yssha said dubiously. "I can only stay briefly before I must visit the other holds, though if you will be here, I can return tomorrow."

Nevan broke in, frowning. "If I may, thuri?"

"What is it?"

"Just a hunch that if you're going to do it, best to do it now."

"And we learned at Ancestor Glade that on the rare occasions that you have a hunch, it is wise to follow it. Though that would remove their opportunity to reconsider."

"I wonder how many actually change their minds in that brief time," Marcurio said thoughtfully. "We certainly didn't."

"Knowing both of them," Andreius said, "once they've decided, they'll hold to their decisions." He grinned. "And like you two, they've fought through a barrow together, though not alone; Sorcalin and I went through Geirmund's Hall with them."

Yssha nodded. "You would have been most welcome when we went through Bleak Falls Barrow, I assure you! Geirmund's Hall is one of the places Marcurio and I were putting off exploring until we had a full team again, along with Folgunthur, searching for the other two fragments of the Gauldurson Amulet to go with the one we found in Saarthal."

Andreius grinned and handed her the amulet fragment. "Looks like we saved you the trouble."

She accepted it and thanked him, then turned to see Imiril and Arenim holding hands. "You are decided on this?"

Both of them nodded, and she smiled. "So be it, then." She raised her arms, and went through what she could remember of the wedding ceremony - not too badly, she thought, until she got to the gifting of rings part, and had no rings to give. She didn't feel any nudges, so she said, "May Mara and the rest of the Nine witness and bless this marriage. This I ask in Their names, and may your union be happy and fruitful."

Her hands blazed gold, and rings appeared on Imiril's and Arendim's fingers.

Yssha knelt, her head bowed. "Thank you, Lords," she breathed. Their blessing on the marriage was unmistakable, despite her own shortcomings, and she was grateful. "Grant them Your grace and blessings, I pray, that they help hold the Empire together."

When she rose, she went to Arenim and licked the tip of her ear. "When your tour is over, I would be honored to be at your wedding announcement. Assuming it does not reach Alinor long before we do!"

Arenim giggled, touching her circlet. "I fear it will, Majesty. At least that there was a rather unusual wedding ceremony in Riften for an Odmer woman and an Altmer man traveling with the well-known Andreius Hargan and Master Sorcalin."

Yssha chuckle-purred, then joined Mjoll on the low wall of the Great Plaza. "Please, all, enjoy the holiday, and help this young couple enjoy their wedding day!"

That got a good-natured laugh and assurance they would, so she jumped off the wall. So did Mjoll, but the Nord ex-adventurer turned to Serana, looking sympathetic. "May I ask how you lost your leg?"

Serana chuckled. "Enchanted Thalmor battle-axe, in the assault on the Alinor palace. It's clumsy using a crutch, and I miss being able to use Dawnbreaker, but that won't last long."

"How so?" Mjoll asked curiously.

Nevan answered that. "Because our researches into Dwemer technology are going well. I'm confident that unless we run into a major snag, we'll have her on a Centurion-style artificial leg in a month or so."

Mjoll nodded. "That's good - and she isn't the only one that sort of thing will help, you know."

"Indeed we do. There are a lot of former Thalmor prisoners the healers couldn't help, but that our technological discoveries may be able to. I hope so, at least."

* * *

Yssha was in a pleasant mood as they took off for Windhelm. It had definitely been an unusual wedding, but one that Mara obviously approved of, since She'd provided the rings Herself. Though, she reminded herself, she couldn't say Mara didn't provide all wedding rings. She had no idea of the origins of hers and Marcurio's, just that they had come from Maramal and been blessed by Mara's divine grace.

She'd never thought of herself as a priestess, but since the Divines had obviously approved of her performing a distinctly priestly function, perhaps she would have to. A chat with Danica at her next check-up might be in order.

* * *

Everything went smoothly for most of their tour. The Jarls made speeches, she did so as well afterward, and then opened the festivities. In Solitude, it seemed like half the Skyguard from Headquarters and Northwatch Keep were visiting; the dragon towers were mostly occupied by two, the ramparts of Castle Dour were decorated with more dovah, and the streets were more crowded than she'd ever seen. Even Odahviing's usual landing spot outside the walls had to be cleared by guards before he could set down, even in a near-hover.

She laughed as he grumped while she dismounted. "Only three more after this, fahdoni. Morthal and Falkreath are small enough to give us no problems, and Jarl Igmund has given the Reach over to Legion administration, for the most part. So we should have no problems in Markarth, either. But you will have to share space, here, as will I."

She strongly disliked the crowds, but did her best to be polite. Marcurio and Nevan teamed up to protect Serana from jostling, though once people saw her missing leg, they made way for her.

Other than the crowds, though, their Solitude visit went smoothly enough, and Morthal was quiet, as expected, though Jarl Idgrod seemed uneasy.

Yssha began sharing that unease as they neared Markarth. She had no idea why, but something felt wrong. As soon as she entered the city, it got worse. Despite the clear sky, it suddenly felt like a massive storm was about to strike. She hid a shudder and had to resist an urge to draw her mace.

She forced herself to act like this was the holiday it was supposed to be, with the speeches and mingling and smiles, but she did take a brief opportunity to draw Legate Emmanuel Admand aside. "I hesitate to say this, but I have a feeling something very bad is going to happen here, probably fairly soon."

He nodded sharply. "I'll see to increasing patrols in the city, then. Thanks for the warning, Legate."

She smiled briefly, glad that the Legion was still respecting her desire to be addressed by her Legion rank. "It is just a feeling, and may mean nothing, but I appreciate that."

"From you, I take it seriously. I'd be stupid to do otherwise, and no one's ever called me that."

Yssha managed a brief chuckle, then she had to rejoin the festivities. She didn't particularly enjoy them, and liked even less that she had to pretend to, so it was a real relief to leave the city and mount Odahviing. Falkreath briefly, then home ... it would be good to see Rayya and Freyr again.


	14. Massacre in Markarth

.

Chapter 14 - Massacre in Markarth

Legate Admand scowled at his duty rosters. Most of his people had been on duty throughout the holiday preparations and festivities, and should have the evening and night free, but the Dragonborn's "only a feeling" had him concerned. He'd be up all night, he was certain, and it looked like his officers were going to be earning their extra pay.

He compared his rosters to a detailed map of the city, trying to decide what forces to send to what seemed the most vulnerable spots. Understone Keep was about as secure as it was possible to be, though perhaps an extra guard or two wouldn't be amiss. The Treasury House wasn't much of a target, nor was the Silver-Blood Inn, with the Silver-Bloods out of power.

That abandoned house near the Silver-Blood Inn didn't seem quite so abandoned any longer, though; a sellsword named Honmund had been seen going in and out. His reputation was about average for a sellsword, but he'd also been seen with a suspicious-looking mace with a faint sick-green glow. Station someone there to keep an eye on the sellsword, then. And a couple at the orphanage, though why anything should disturb it was beyond him.

* * *

Honmund sighed as he prepared dinner. Not that he needed it, since he'd eaten well enough during the celebration; what he really needed was more of the mead that let him blur the knowledge of what he'd become. He was allowed enough to sleep, usually, but this evening, he didn't get even that respite.

He glared at the mace he'd been given. It was bad enough that Molag Bal had claimed him as champion, but the mace seemed to be acting as conduit for the Daedra Lord's will. And now it didn't want him to drink, because it seemed he had a mission later.

He swore to himself. Divines protect him - though they didn't seem to be - he hated being a Daedra's pawn. "All right," he growled at the mace. "What do you want me to do now?"

His answer wasn't in words, but in an urge to pack clean clothing and invisibility potions. He growled to himself, but did so, then ... waited, until a couple of hours after dusk. Then an invisibility potion, and out the door. No one saw him, of course, but there were two guards in Legion armor outside his door, and they didn't seem to notice it opening or closing, which did seem odd. He followed the mace's urgings to the house that had been converted to at orphanage, avoided the guards, and ... did what he had been brought here for.

* * *

Yssha, and everyone else at Lakeview Manor, was awakened by a thunder of dragon wings, followed by a full-throated "DOVAHKIIN!" in a voice she didn't recognize.

She and Marcurio untangled themselves from each other and the sheets, scrambling out of bed and hastily pulling on robes. Then she hurried outside, to see a blood dragon with two riders, one in Legion armor.

"What is it?" she asked, as soon as she reached them.

The Legionnaire gulped. "Uh, your orphanage in Markarth - it was attacked. I'm afraid ... no survivors. Not even the Legion guards assigned to protect it."

Yssha and Marcurio both swore before she spoke to them again. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"We don't know," the Legionnaire said. "Probably not tonight, at least - but Legate Admand thinks your presence might help morale. Especially if you help investigate ... like you did with that earlier murder."

"We shall do so, then. If you would return and inform the Legate, we will dress, call Odahviing, and be there within an hour."

"It will be done, Dovahkiin," the Skyguard replied. They took off, as Yssha's people returned to Lakeview.

Once she and Marcurio were alone, Yssha let out a deliberately restrained yowl. "They went after my orphans! Somehow, I will destroy them!"

"That may not be possible, dearling, but I share the feeling."

"I will find a way. Or if destroying them is truly not possible, I will at least stop them from harming innocents. Mortals do enough of that by themselves." With that, she went into the bathroom for her morning clean-up routine, several hours early. Marcurio took her place when she emerged, to begin dressing in her armor.

By the time they were ready to go, so were Nevan and Serana. Yssha would have preferred her uncles for this particular mission, given their far greater experience with Daedra. But they were busy with King Imiril, and the three with her were highly intelligent, and could be helpful even if two lacked experience.

When they went outside, Odahviing was waiting. Yssha told him what little they knew, then the team mounted, and he took off for Markarth.

* * *

They rarely flew at night, and Yssha wasn't happy about having to land in the dark, but as it happened, the Skyguard stationed in Markarth had anticipated the problem; dragons and their riders were in a circle, providing a fire-lit landing area. Odahviing set down in the middle, and when the team dismounted, said, "I will wait, thuri. Perhaps I can be of help."

Yssha was surprised, and gratified. "I would appreciate that, vahriini. A dovah's insights could be valuable."

Legate Admand approached. "Welcome, Ysmir. Jarl Igmund is waiting to speak to you. If you and your people would come with me?"

"Certainly, Legate."

* * *

Igmund was in the map room, but this time, the map was of Markarth, not Skyrim. "Greetings, Ysmir. Thanks for coming so quickly."

"The orphans under my patronage were killed - I could not delay. What can you tell me?"

"Not a great deal, just yet. I'm sure you were told everyone, including the soldiers guarding the orphanage, were killed."

Yssha nodded. "When was it discovered?"

"Flight time from here to Lakeview before you were notified, plus the ... maybe an hour before you arrived. So not much more than an hour ago. Calcelmo's apprentice Aicantar cast a preservation spell on the orphanage, so you can see it exactly as we found it. Brother Verulus is unhappy, says they should be taken to the Hall of the Dead right away, but I overrode him."

"That's good," Nevan said. "Moving the bodies could destroy useful evidence." He wondered about forensics here ... magical, maybe? Surely they had the concept, even if their forensics were primitive by his standards.

"How soon can we go there?" Yssha asked. "We are four mages, enough to provide more than adequate light for a proper examination of the scene."

"Right now, if you want," Admand said. "I'll take you there myself."

* * *

There were a dozen Legionnaires guarding the crime scene when the group arrived. Yssha took one look at the two dead ones. "That looks like mace work, which I am very familiar with. Does anyone think differently?"

There were no objections, and no tracks to be seen on Markarth's stone, so she nodded to Brother Verulus and his group of acolytes. "These may be taken to the Hall, Holy Brother. May the Nine be with them."

Verulus bowed, and acolytes carrying stretchers placed the soldiers' bodies on them, then left for Understone Keep.

Yssha had to summon her courage to open the door of the orphanage. Dead soldiers and bandits, however gory, she'd become inured to, but children beaten to death by maces ... no. The very idea was revolting.

The reality proved worse. She had to bury her face in Marcurio's shoulder for a few moments before she could steel herself to actually examine the interior of the orphanage. It was horrible, and didn't improve as they made their way through the building. Blood everywhere, and being mace-work, bits of flesh and brains spattered around as well ... It was hard to tell, but it looked like the children closest to the rear door had been slaughtered in their sleep, with more struggles as the unknown murderer moved closer to the front, with what she assumed to be the night matron about halfway between.

Nevan saw her reaction, and hid a sigh. His thur was a combat-hardened veteran, no question about that, but even combat vets were often disturbed by a crime scene, especially one like this. He wasn't proud of the fact that his training let him evaluate it in terms of available evidence rather than humanity, but it did, and that was a fact. So he studied details, and the evidence was contradictory. Part of it said this was a coldly planned operation, but part looked more like ... like what?

He thought back to some of his investigations before Brelyna had ... conjured him here. Maybe a crazed cultist, or just someone insane, with no particular reason for committing such mayhem. He wished things like DNA analysis was available here - some of this blood had to be the assailant's, given that a couple of the kids were holding bloody knives, or had them nearby. But he didn't even know if this universe had forensic magic, much less how to use it, if so.

When he'd made what observations he could, he turned to Yssha. "I think we've gotten everything possible from here."

"I believe so, as well. Let us leave, then, and allow Brother Verulus to care for the bodies."

As they were leaving, though, she turned back briefly for a prayer. "Mother Mara, please bring these children and those caring for them the peace and comfort they deserve, in Your loving arms."

Then she turned to Admand. "Do you have any idea who could have done such a thing?"

"I don't know, but I do have a suspicion," the Legate replied. "Not too long ago a sellsword named Honmund started carrying an enchanted mace instead of his usual sword, and took up residence in an abandoned house just up from Arnleif and Sons. We can check with the troops I have guarding the door."

Yssha nodded. "Yes - let us do that. If he recently began carrying an enchanted mace, I definitely want to talk to him."

Not long afterward, Legate Admand was asking his men if Honmund had gone anywhere. They assured him the sellsword hadn't gone anywhere, but the enchanted mace had aroused Yssha's suspicions, so she asked one of them, "Are there any other exits?"

"No, ma'am," he replied. "This place is carved into the mountain - the only other doors are internal."

"Very good." She went to the door and knocked. After a couple of minutes, there was no response, so she knocked again. Still nothing, and she sighed. "Legate, this is a mass murder investigation, and the only current suspect is refusing to respond, if he is there. If not, I will apologize and pay for repairs. For now, if he is there and resists, try to disable rather than kill. Now, everyone behind me."

Once they had obeyed, she double-checked that she was wearing the Amulet of Articulation, and Shouted at the door. This was a sturdy-looking main entrance, not a flimsy interior door, so she used the full Shout. "Fus ... Ro DAH!"

To her relief, while it blew the door open and off its hinges, it didn't shatter anything, and she led the group inside.

Honmund heard the noise, like an earthquake, and rose groggily, having managed to get drunk enough to fall asleep. He stumbled into the main room, blearily recognizing Imperial armor and Skyguard surcoats, the group apparently led by a small Khajiit.

"Huh? Who ... what's going on?"

"You are Honmund?" the Khajiit asked quietly - for which he was grateful.

"I ... yes. Why?"

Yssha hid a sigh. The man was all-too-obviously drunk, and maybe not just on the ale and mead she could smell, but she didn't recognize the other undertones. "There was an attack on the Markarth Orphanage earlier tonight, by someone wielding a mace. You have recently begun carrying an enchanted mace. Do you know anything about it?"

Honmund began to shake his head, but something stopped him. "I ... I'm not sure. I had a nightmare ... "

"Gah." Serana snorted, adjusting her weight on her crutches to free her right hand. "I've seen this before, or something very similar. He's no vampire, so it isn't a true blood-drunk, but close. I think I can sober him up for you."

"Then please do."

Serana cast her spell, and Honmund collapsed, vomiting until his stomach was empty, and continuing a bit beyond that.

When he stood, with a trooper's help, he looked at Yssha with a haunted expression. "You ... Dovahkiin? Can you help me?"

"Help you how?" Yssha was beginning to guess what was going on, but she needed confirmation.

""Free me." His voice sounded defeated. "Molag Bal has claimed me as his champion. So I think that nightmare ... was probably real. And ... I can't pray, not properly. He won't let me! So I'm condemned to Coldharbour."

"Maybe not," Serana said. "there are ways to free yourself from him, even if you're a vampire. I was a Daughter of Coldharbour, and now I'm a normal Nord."

"But how? And ... how can I pay for what I did, if it was real rather than a nightmare?

"If?" Yssha asked bitterly. "If? I saw my orphans DEAD!" She felt a twinge, and drew herself up. "Show me through this house. The whole thing. Now."

Honmund bowed his head. "Yes, Ysmir. Follow me."

She and the rest did, all the way down to the excavated hollow that held the altar, where Serana stopped them, pointing with a crutch. "That's Molag Bal's .. the feeling is unmistakable. No one but Yssha beyond this point."

Yssha didn't like that, but continued on and approached the altar. "Molag Bal. Attack me myself any way you wish, but attack those I have taken under my protection, and I will use whatever resources I have, or can muster, to counter you."

That got her a contemptuous laugh. "What resources, Dragonborn? You're nothing more than a tool to defeat Alduin, and that you've already done. The Divines have no more use for you, pawn."

"Ah, but we do," a resonant male voice replied. "As you well know. My daughter, in her own way, represents all of us."

"So? Those she supposedly protects are still vulnerable, as my champion proved this night."

"You claimed him, if I am correct, rather than him consenting," Yssha said coldly.

"I am the Lord of Brutality," Bal responded. "He is weak, but he was better than the Vigilant I made him kill. No, I left him no choice, and he will be in my service for eternity."

"Perhaps not." Yssha's attention went to Bormahu Akatosh. _Can this be made a compulsion-free chamber for a few minutes?_

 _Yes, Moni. But why?_

 _This one seems as much a victim as my orphans. I feel he deserves a chance to regret his actions, and even pay for them with his own pain. Perhaps soul-trapping him, then sending him to the Soul Cairn for a time, might let him do so._

She sensed amusement. _Not the Soul Cairn, no. But we do have such a realm, and if he can hold to the hope of redemption at his death and afterward, he may yet achieve Sovngarde._

Which he most definitely did not deserve, at least now, in her opinion. Even Coldharbour might be too good for him. But ... she wasn't a Divine, and it wasn't up to her to judge another's soul.

But she had to give him the chance, or she wouldn't be able to live with herself. She turned away from Molag Bal's altar, to the murderer. "Bormahu says there is another realm you can travel to, if you can hold to the hope of redemption at your death, and beyond. If you cleanse yourself of guilt by willing acceptance of the suffering you are given, you may yet achieve Sovngarde."

Honmund dropped to his knees, his head bowed. "Thank the Nine! Please, before Bal compels me again!"

Since both were behind the barrier of Serana's crutch, Nevan obliged him.

* * *

Yssha turned to Admand. "I am a priestess, of a sort, but I do not have the training to do what must be done. Who is the ranking cleric here?"

"That would be Mother Hamal, high priestess at the Temple of Dibella."

"Could you send someone to ask if she would be kind enough to join us here?"

"Of course."

* * *

When Hamal joined them, Yssha bowed. "Thank you for coming, Revered Mother. You know what happened here?"

"Yes, I was told on the way. What do you want of me, Ysmir?"

"I would like you to cleanse both this house and the Orphanage of Molag Bal's taint, if that is possible."

Hamal smiled. "Quite possible. My Lady is not fond of those who pervert Her gifts, and favors those who use them as intended. The Lord of Rape perverts; you use Her gifts properly." She paused. "She does suggest you purify the shrine with fire before I proceed, however."

Yssha grinned, showing her fangs. "I would be more than happy to do so, Revered Mother. The rest of you should return upstairs and perhaps go outdoors, however. I plan to use my Flame Breath at full power, and I have no idea how far it will spread in such an enclosed location."

"As you say, Dovahkiin. We are leaving now."

Yssha gave them twice the time she thought it would take for everyone to get outside, then Shouted, directly at the shrine. "YOL ... TOOR SHUL!"

What came out made her extremely glad she was immune to the effects of her own offensive Shouts. The shrine, and the entire chamber, turned into almost volcanic-level lava, and as she retreated up the tunnel, the fireball followed her, spreading - at lesser intensity - throughout the larder and the rest of the lower level, then subsiding further as she reached the upper level. By the time she reached the door, it was no worse than ordinary flame, but even that had the guards retreating until she emerged and the flames began to die behind her.

Mother Hamal gave her a quizzical look. "That was ... more impressive than I was expecting, Ysmir. I fear I will have to let it cool before I can cleanse it, so the orphanage will be first, instead."

"Thank you, Revered Mother. Unless your Lady thinks it necessary, I would prefer not to burn out the orphanage."

"No, that won't be necessary." Hamal smiled. "Normal cleansing will be sufficient, though from what I understand, that will take some time, and the contents will need to be replaced."

Yssha shuddered. "The staff who were off duty will take care of the physical cleaning and renovation. But I would prefer they wait to do it after your cleansing."

The priestess chuckled. "I can understand that, and I'll take care of it right away."

Yssha bowed her thanks. "In that case, I shall report to the Jarl and then return home. Blessings of the Nine on you, Revered Mother."

"And on you, my daughter."


	15. The Great Restoration

.

Chapter 15 - The Great Restoration

The meeting Arch-Mage Faralda had requested was held on the Great Porch of Dragonsreach. The attendees were an illustrious group: High King Balgruuf, Jarls Kraldar of Winterhold and Gelebor of Blackreach, the Arch-Mage, Masters Tolfdir, Colette Marence, and Calcelmo. The Dragonborn and her husband were there as well, with Odahviing perched on the balcony.

Balgruuf called the meeting to order, then turned to Faralda. "You said you have an offer for us, Arch-Mage, so if you'll take over?"

"Certainly, Your Highness." Faralda stood, looking around the conference table. "Thank all of you for coming. This concerns some discoveries made in the Sightless Pit library by Master Calcelmo and his colleagues, with contributions by Masters Tolfdir and Marence. We can go into detail later, if you wish, but in short, we believe their work will allow a large enough group of mages to reverse the Great Collapse."

That naturally caused a loud reaction. Balgruuf let it go on for a couple of minutes before saying, "Enough!" His attention went back to Faralda. "Now, in layman's terms, tell us what this is all about."

"In layman's terms?" Faralda smiled. "I'll do my best. You all know the Alteration school has a Telekinesis spell, which can move things by use of magica?"

That got nods around the conference table. "And that the Restoration school can move broken bones into the places they belong, then fuse them together?"

Nods again, and Odahviing spoke, sounding amused. "They have discovered that their skills, combined with Dwemer earth-moving spells, can mend the qethsegol ... which means all 'bones of the earth', not just those used as Word Walls, as the term is usually used. The process has been tested, though of course on a much smaller scale."

Kraldar looked at the dragon. "You're serious? You really think they could reverse the Great Collapse?"

"I would not be here if I thought otherwise," Odahviing said calmly. "It will not be easy, and the mages will at best be exhausted at the end. Some may be dead. But all who will take part accept the risk. The question is whether the rest of you will accept your small risk, or refuse to even try."

Kraldar studied Faralda. "I'm willing to let you try, even given the risk of losing the rest of Winterhold, with one condition. Since Odahviing says some of the mages might die, only volunteers may participate."

Odahviing chuckled. "All will be volunteers, who have been shown pictures of what the land was like before the Great Collapse. Even those who do not live there now are related to those who do, and offer their services freely. They will be taught and coordinated by the College mages, aided by some of us who actually remember Winterhold in its glory."

"When will you be able to do it?" Kraldar asked. "I'd really like to get Winterhold back to being a contributing part of Skyrim, rather than a poor relation."

"The spells are simple enough," Faralda said. "I'm sure we can be ready for the attempt by next Mondas."

"Then we gather at Winterhold next Morndas morning," Balgruuf said.

* * *

The weather the day of the attempt was unusually pleasant for Winterhold, sunny and barely below freezing, with only a gentle breeze. More than two hundred mages lined the shore, mostly Odmer, but there were representatives of all races in the gathering. Some had equipped helmets or jewelry with waterbreathing and newly developed water-vision enchantments, to go underwater for the initial work. Spectators were on the mountainside above the city, and thanks to dragons spreading the word, there were far more of them than had been at the meeting - and there would have been still more, except that there was no room, and a lot of people had had to be turned away.

Odahviing was with Faralda and Tolfdir on the lower end of the causeway to the College, using his greater volume to make their orders audible to everyone. The first order came as soon as the sun was high enough to light up the split between the mainland and the island that held the College. "Divers down!"

About half the mages descended the cliffs into the water, and the work began. There was nothing to be seen from the spectator area at this point, so Balgruuf turned to Calcelmo. "If I understand correctly, you're using Dwemer magic for part of this?"

"A rock-fusing technique that makes repairs stronger than the original, yes," Calcelmo said. "But the most important part is the knowledge they left us of how magic works." He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "They worked out the underlying principles of sympathy and contagion. It's the principle of contagion that makes this reconstruction possible. You see, if two items have ever been in contact, they leave ... traces on each other, depending on how close the contact was and how long it lasted. A brief contact may be difficult or impossible to trace, you understand."

"That seems clear enough," Balgruuf said. "But the rock of Winterhold was in close contact for ... millennia, before the Great Collapse, so it's easier?"

"Oh, yes indeed," Calcelmo said. "Very good, Highness. Thanks to the Law of Contagion, the qethsegol can be placed very precisely by telekinesis, then rejoined by the rock-fusing. A very elegant combination of the Alteration and Restoration schools, don't you think?"

"I do indeed, Master Calcelmo."

Sorcalin approached and chuckled. "And if I understand correctly, Master, even weak spots that allowed the Great Collapse in the first place can be found and corrected during this operation?"

Calcelmo turned. "Master Sorcalin! Yes, certainly, and it will be - or I should say, even though we can't see it - is being done."

Balgruuf turned to Sorcalin. "It's good to see you here, though I hadn't expected it."

Sorcalin smiled. "When we heard about it, we decided it might be a good thing for our young tourist to see."

"I agree. How's his tour going, by the way?"

"Quite well, thanks. I think he's fallen in love with Skyrim food and drink, by the way. Oh, have you heard he married his bodyguard?"

"I heard rumors that sounded like that ... with Ysmir presiding, though? I didn't think she was a priestess."

Sorcalin laughed. "Yes, and I think she was rather appalled by it. But Lady Mara made it pretty unmistakable when She gave Imiril and Arenim their rings."

"Oh, look!" someone yelled, and everyone's attention turned to the reconstruction site. A huge rock was rising from the water, fastening itself to the base of the College causeway. A flare of magica sealed it there, then other stones followed, left, right, and up and the spectators began cheering.

* * *

It took the whole day, but by the time dusk began falling, the Great Collapse had been reversed. All of the mages involved were collapsed from exhaustion, but only two had died, and the rest were being treated. By morning, they should be fine. The College's former island was part of the mainland again, the causeway - now more like a pathway - between city and college completely supported again, and another couple of islands also reattached.

"It is accomplished," Odahviing said, somehow both calm and triumphant.

"Indeed it is," Jarl Kraldar said, beaming. "Once everyone's recovered and I can make preparations, we'll have a celebration. Call it a week from today, and you're all invited."

* * *

Imiril waited until the mages had been taken to places they could recover, and most of the observers had left, before he turned to Andreius. "That was ... I've never seen anything like it. So many mages working on a single project - and a project so huge, based on Dwemer knowledge. Something this tremendous ... the Dragonborn _must_ have been involved!"

Yssha had delayed her departure, wanting to talk to her uncles, so she heard that and chuckle-purred. "Not this time, my young friend. All the credit here goes to Calcelmo for the magic research, Faralda and Tolfdir for the coordination, and the mages who did the actual work." She smiled. "Shall we walk down and get a closer look?"

"Yes, please." Imiril ran on ahead, Arenim close behind.

Yssha smiled at her uncles as their group descended more slowly. "How is the trip going?"

Andreius laughed. "Not quite as planned, that's for sure. That wedding, for example ... but I think it's working out to be a good thing, for both of them. I wonder, have you heard anything from Imperial City or Alinor about it?"

"The Emperor is delighted," Yssha said, purring softly. "His subjects in Alinor are of two minds. The older people are dubious, thinking it makes him look headstrong and overly impulsive, while the younger ones think Mara herself, by giving them their rings, is encouraging younger marriage. Unlike their elders, they are in favor of that."

"Pretty much what we expected," Sorcalin said. "And what of your own difficulty in Markarth?"

Yssha sighed. "Mother Hamal cleansed the orphanage and abandoned house. The house has been sealed, and Honmund's mace placed in Calcelmo's museum under guard, for whatever good that will do. The orphanage is still being cleaned and refurnished. I can only hope children will not be too frightened to live there again. If they are, I will have to find someplace else. Which I will."

Andreius frowned. "So you can't keep them from recreating their artifacts, right?"

"So it would seem." Yssha scowled. "That does not seem right ... but Grams always told me life was not fair. Still, mortals should have some protection from the evil Daedra, other than Divines weakened by creating the mortals themselves."

Sorcalin snorted. "There used to be a Prince who served that purpose. Not deliberately, of course, just by keeping the rest so busy defending against him that they didn't have the time or attention to mess with mortals very much. But the rest got tired of that and cursed him to become the embodiment of what he hated most. Have you heard of Jyggalag?"

"Yes, but very little. The Lord of Order, as I recall, turned into Sheogorath except for a brief time every eon, during the ... I believe it is called the Greymarch."

"Correct," Andreius said. "Once an era, Jyggalag returns and subdues the Shivering Isles briefly, before Sheogorath re-manifests. Ysshaya had the opportunity to kill Jyggalath and end the Greymarch, but that would have meant her becoming the new Sheogorath while Jyggalath went to the Waters of Oblivion."

"That doesn't make any sense," Nevan said. "Why not kill Sheogorath instead, or just find some way to lift the curse?"

"If you figure some way to accomplish either, we can give it a try." Andreius shrugged. "I don't know of any, but since you come from a different plane, you might be able to come up with something."

"I'll definitely do my best," Nevan promised. "Maybe see if there are any clues in the Sightless Pit library - you and Sorcalin probably know whatever's in the College library."

"That sounds like a good start," Andreius agreed. "Now let's look at this restored land."

"It stinks," Yssha said, her nose wrinkling.

"It sure does," Serana said. "Well, now we know what a sea bottom smells like. At least bringing the rock fragments up through the water washed them off, or it'd be even worse, and we might be wading mud, as well."

Imiril was kneeling, studying one of the joints, when the group approached him and Arenim. "This is incredible ... you can barely see the seam. I never would have thought of using Restoration magic on stone, of all things."

"I wonder ... " Arenim said slowly.

"Wonder what, love?" Imiril asked. "Maybe the same thing I'm thinking, that these spells would greatly speed up rebuilding Alinor City?"

"Exactly." She smiled. "Maybe we should hire some of the Odmer mages to travel to Alinor and teach the spells, perhaps even help in the reconstruction."

"Only if they're willing to work for almost nothing," Imiril said, and sighed. "The surrender included paying reparations to Dovahkiin for her suffering at the hands of the Thalmor, and to the Empire for the costs of the invasion. So until those are paid, we're on a very tight budget."

Yssha frowned. "Ko vahzen? I was not aware that personal reparations were included."

"Truly," Imiril said. "And you deserve them, but with the Thalmor out of the picture and unable to pay, the burden falls on our people."

"But that's not fair!" Arenim exclaimed.

" _Life_ isn't fair," Imiril and Yssha said, at the same time. They exchanged grins, then Yssha continued. "Life is not, but individuals may make the effort. I do not wish to punish those who had nothing to do with my captivity, particularly since that was the best way for Bormah to isolate me for lessons I needed to learn away from everyday life. So Your Highnesses may consider the personal reparations forgiven."

"Highnesses?" Arenim looked blank. Then she flushed. "Great Auri-El! I am now, aren't I?"

Yssha chuckle-purred, others with her simply chuckled. "You are indeed, Queen Arenim. You are only now realizing that?"

"Um." Arenim hesitated. "Well, yes. You understand I've been ... ah, preoccupied with things other than concern with my social status."

Marcurio laughed. "I should hope so! Newlyweds _should_ have other things on their minds." He made shooing motions. "Now go to wherever you plan to spend the night, and hire your mages when they've recovered enough."


	16. Kiraya and Kharjo

.

Chapter 16 - Kiraya and Kharjo

Kiraya was disappointed to find that Ahkari's caravan was no longer in Helgen, perhaps no longer in Skyhold. Her inquiries told her they were planning to go to Falkreath, investigating whether trading opportunities would improve under the new Jarl Nenya, though it was said Falkreath had little except lumber to trade in the first place.

Well. She was on a mission, so she headed out the west gate. She was pleasantly surprised to find the caravan parked less than halfway to Falkreath, near the Bandit Den Inn, which had begun its existence as Pinewatch.

Kharjo was on watch, and approached her. "I am pleased to see you, Kiraya. May I ask what your business here is?"

"Kiraya wishes to travel with Kharjo, and would like to offer him the means to repay his debt to Ahkari so he will be free to do so."

"What?" Kharjo was disbelieving. Are you serious?"

"Quite serious," Kiraya said. "Our first expedition would be to retrieve Kharjo's Moon Amulet, if he agrees."

"That is enough to tempt me," Kharjo admitted. "Very well, I accept. But I will repay you."

Kiraya nodded. "That should not take long - a couple of bandit dens or bounty hunts. We are agreed, then?"

"Yes." Kharjo smiled. "I think this partnership may be both enjoyable and profitable."

Kiraya handed him the coin. "This one thinks Kharjo may also enjoy paying Ahkari himself?"

He nodded, acceping the coin purse. "I will be right back."

Kiraya smiled to herself as she waited. She wasn't sure why she had fallen for Kharjo, but she had, almost on first scent - and first sight had been most pleasant as well. Since he seemed to return her feelings, she wasn't going to question the gods, either!

But when he rejoined her, she realized she had to tell him something. "Ah, we may not always be able to go our own way. This one is employed by the Dragonborn, and though she has seen no action on her employer's behalf since the assault on Alinor, she must respond if called."

"Understood. I would serve her happily myself. Is it true that she is with kit?"

"She has not said, but she smells so, yes." Kiraya smiled. "And she is seeing the priestess of Kynareth in Whiterun on a weekly basis."

Kharjo grinned. "That sounds conclusive. So, where next?"

"Mmm." Kiraya was thoughtful. "Have you any idea where the thieves who robbed you are based?"

"Halted Stream Camp," Kharjo replied. "The Dragonborn cleared it out once, but it seems another band of bandits and poachers has moved in. A smaller band, hopefully."

Kiraya chuckle-purred. "This one agrees, especially since the Dragonborn works with three others, usually all mages as well as weapons-users. We are only two, and the only magic this one has is minor healing of herself."

"Which is more than I have. I need to stock up on healing potions, and none of my equipment is enchanted. Unlike yours, I notice."

"Yes." Kiraya smiled. "The Dragonborn was kind enough to add dragon scales to my leather armor, then enchant it and my bow. She called it 'enlightened self-interest,' and explained that the better Kiraya was equipped, the better job she could do as a team member."

Kharjo's whiskers twitched in mild amusement. "She has a good point, and I've heard that she sees to it that her followers, beginning with Marcurio even before they were married, have the best equipment she can manage. Whether or not it aids her, it certainly aids her followers - I could wish I had had the opportunity to serve her!"

"She is ... awesome," Kiraya said softly. "Not just for the gifts she gives her followers, but for herself. Believe it or not, she is very quiet and retiring, unless she must be otherwise - and then she is most imposing. This one finds it no wonder that the dovah name her their thur and jud, or that the Odmer worship her."

"Ah ... overlord and queen, if I have that right. But why both titles?"

Kiraya shrugged. "This one is not sure. She believes 'thur' involves some sort of essential link, and 'jud' is more ceremonial ... but do not take that as absolute truth."

"I won't, then," Kharjo said. "So - let's find some healing potions, and maybe a pair of horses. We could walk, of course, and hope our targets have horses we could take from the camp. Your opinion?"

"This one believes it would be better to walk. Until we know how many we face, stealth is our best option. If we take horses with us, we would have to leave them far enough from the camp that they would be in danger from wild animals."

"A good point," Kharjo agreed. "Let's take a look at some plans I found of it. I have been wanting to retrieve my amulet ever since it was stolen, and making what preparations I could."

They found a flat rock nearby, and spread out the plans. Kiraya thought briefly, then pointed to the northern section. "It looks to this one like our best approach would be here, above the mine entrance. We should be able to sneak up there in the dark, then wait until it's light enough for me to aim accurately, and take out any outside sentries."

Kharjo nodded. "That seems reasonable. Even if they have a Khajiit or two on night watch, they'll be half-nightblind from the torches humans and mer need."

* * *

They were in position half an hour before dawn, and not long afterward, the bandit sentries changed. The lighting was far from ideal, but it was bright enough for Kiraya to aim accurately, and any she could kill outside was one they wouldn't have to fight inside. She was behind a rock outcropping, so she could shoot, then duck back, and she ought to be able to get several arrows off before they could pinpoint her location.

The first thing she did was identify the two archers and one Breton who might be a mage. Those three got her first arrows, and she picked off two of the other three as they ran for the mine.

"Five down," Kharjo said, as they began descending. "That was some excellent shooting!"

Kiraya purred at the compliment. "Thank you. Such times are when one is glad she puts in a lot of practice time, despite it being boring."

"If you want to retrieve your arrows - "Kharjo started to say.

"After we are done inside," Kiraya interrupted. "We should not give them any more time to prepare than we absolutely must." She kept her bow out, with an arrow nocked, but also took a moment to make sure her dagger and sword were loose in their sheaths.

Kharjo had his shield on his arm, his mace in his hand, as they passed through the stockade, noting things to pick up on the way out. Knowing they were going after bandits, who would undoubtedly have more than they could carry, they'd made arrangements with Belethor to have one of the Marcurio's Porter Service retrieval teams standing by, so they'd retrieve even the light items on the way out, rather than carrying them through the mine.

They were planning on stealth for as long as possible, so Kharjo took time to oil the hinges before he opened the mine entrance. The entry tunnel was wide and well lit, so they had no trouble avoiding a pressure plate before passing a cart with mammoth tusks and a snout. They'd seen three more tusks outside, so Kiraya grinned at her companion, and spoke very softly. "That is almost a thousand gold in tusks alone, so far!"

"Yes, very nice." Kharjo smiled, then gestured with his mace toward the sound of a pickaxe being used. "I thought there were six outside, but it seems they have not been alerted."

"Or are setting us up for an ambush further in," Kiraya said, moving ahead of him. Yes, a single bandit in what looked like iron armor, mining an ore vein. Her Daedric arrows would make it through iron, but it might not be a fast kill, so she waited until the bandit straightened to stretch, exposing his throat. Smoothly, she drew her bow, sighted, and released.

Blood spurted, and the bandit collapsed with a muffled gurgle. She searched the body, finding a key that proved to open a barred door to the right. That opened onto a much narrower tunnel, still heading downward. She did take a couple of healing potions from a table beside the door, and another from a table just inside - she'd learned early on never to leave healing potions for later retrieval!

Still moving as silently as possible, they made their way down to a wooden platform overlooking a forge setup, with a mammoth being butchered on the floor, and what appeared to be a sleeping area on another platform on the far side.

The butchers were talking. "Gotta have a sharp axe to cut through all that fat," the first one said, sounding grumpy.

"Hurry up with it," the other said impatiently. "We've got a merchant in the pit to take care of after we carve this thing up."

Somebody Kiraya hadn't seen glanced up then, and raised the alarm. She tried to shoot one of the butchers, but he moved in a way she hadn't anticipated, and she missed completely. Hastily, she put her bow on her back and drew her sword, but Kharjo had gotten in front of her, demonstrating that a Khajiit's speed and agility weren't necessarily as hampered by heavy armor as most thought.

The first bandit attacked with a diagonal slash, but completely missed as Kharjo side-stepped right and counter attacked with a powerful blow to the stomach with his mace, the impact making the bandit double over and cry in agony as the impact also shatered his lower ribs. Taking a small step back, the khajiit brought his mace around in a short arc and brought it down on the bandit's head, killing him instantly.

The second bandit went in with a horizontal slash to the head, but Kharjo was faster and blocked it with his shield at the same time he hit the bandit straight in the face with his mace. Kharjo grinned as the second bandit stumbled back in front of his last opponent, giving him the perfect opportunity to run into them shield first against the nearby wall. Taking a step back from the stunned bandits, he went with a quick horizontal blow to each bandit, sending them to join the others in whatever realm they were destined for.

Kiraya grinned to herself - perhaps it was just that few appreciated his unusual strength as she did. He didn't give her much chance to use her sword; he'd taken all three out by the time she got to the cavern's floor. She gave his nose a quick lick, then asked, "Were you hurt?"

"Not enough to need healing," he replied, returning the lick. "Let's check for what we can carry easily."

"Yes, like your Moon Amulet!" Kiraya gestured up at the sleeping area. "This one would guess up there somewhere - it looks like that platform was used for storage, as well as sleeping."

"Yes, it does - and there's a chest up there by the bed. Let's check it out."

Kiraya followed him up, hoping his amulet would be there. He fumbled with the chest for a moment, then opened it and began rooting through the contents. After a minute or so, he held up what looked like an ordinary silver amulet. "Here it is! was given to me by my mother when I was just a cub. It is my only memory of home in this cold land."

"Yes, you told this one." She smiled. "Once we have sold what we have found here, perhaps we could take a trip to Elsweyr. This one would not mind a visit to the orphanage in Orcrest where she grew up, or some friends in Dune."

"It would be a long trip, the entire length of Cyrodiil ... but I cannot say I would dislike it. To feel the warm sands under my feet again ... yes, most tempting. Let us see if this find will pay for such a trip, then we may decide."


	17. Seridur's Escape

Author's Note: Sorry for the flashback, but Seridur was getting insistent that I tell this part of his story.

* * *

Chapter 17 - Seridur's Escape

20 First Seed, 5E 3

Seridur was passing the docks on his way back to the Palace with the Dragon Lady's gleamblossoms when he heard, "Odahviing! Dovgrahaak! Durnehviir!" in a voice he recognized as a dragon Shout from when the Greybeards had summoned and later recognized the Dragonborn.

Did that mean she'd been rescued? He'd never heard her voice, so he couldn't identify it that way - but who else in Alinor could Shout? And it was common knowledge that she rode a red dragon named Odahviing. Which meant ... "Everyone find shelter!" he yelled. "Dragons are coming!"

He got a number of bewildered stares, but when he headed for one of the stone piers and ducked under it, taking his own advice, people began to scatter. He hoped they'd all make it, but with dragons coming, that was unlikely.

The water was cold, but he had no desire to climb back out, and not long afterward, he heard huge wings and dragon Shouts. He flinched as flame licked along the water beside him, and debris either splashed, or hit the pier's surface with a crash. Screams mixed in with the other noises. Part of him wanted to see what was going on but was afraid to look. The rest of him had no desire to look at what would undoubtedly make what he'd seen in combat look tame.

He waited for what seemed days, but by the shadows he could see couldn't have been more than a couple of hours. At that point, ships slid up on both sides of the pier he was under, and he heard shouted orders and running feet as Legionnaires disembarked to begin a ground attack.

The dragons had quit shouting, and he couldn't hear their wingbeats any more, so they must be perched. When the shouts and footsteps retreated, Seridur cautiously moved out from under the pier and up enough he could look around.

It was appalling. Except for the Palace, the city was on fire, and much of it in ruins. When the Empire took revenge for one of its rulers, it did an extremely thorough job of it. Not that he could blame them, he admitted grudgingly. Thalmor weren't exactly known for treating their prisoners well, and the way he, among others, had treated the Stormcrown ...

He shuddered, and began stripping off his gilded armor. He'd be much safer in a muddied tunic, even if he kept his sword and coin purse.

* * *

An hour or so later, the dragons began roaring again, but this time he felt chill, not heat, and dared to look out again. They were putting out fires now, they and their riders helping people out of the wreckage, some of the riders treating wounds.

That puzzled him. Aiding a fallen enemy was no part of Thalmor doctrine, but it seemed routine for these ... what was it, Skyguard?

He emerged from the water, climbing back onto the shore, and a Skyguard spotted him. "You all right?" When Seridur nodded, the Skyguard grinned. "Smart man, hiding under a stone pier. Go dry off and warm up. King Imiril has surrendered to Prince Gaius and the Stormcrown, so we're into clean-up and occupation mode. Behave yourself, and we won't bother you."

"Thank you." Feeling stunned by the changes that had taken place in only a few hours, Seridur headed for his barracks. So crown Prince Imiril was King now ... which meant the old King was dead. Not too surprising, with the Empire invading. He sighed. A hot bath and clean clothes would be nice, and some sleep if he could manage it ... but then, he needed to plan an escape. If the Impies found out who he was and what he'd done to their Stormcrown, he'd be dead, and he didn't particularly like that idea.

* * *

The next morning, wearing middle-class clothes and carrying the only part of his Thalmor gear he'd kept, his glass sword, and with his heavy coin-purse hidden under his tunic and a much lighter one on his belt, he went to the merchant section of the docks. Those had been damaged, but not as badly as the military section, and he was just looking for a way out of the Isles, so he wasn't particular about either the captain or the condition of his ship. He was hardly the only one attempting to leave the islands, either; the docks were fairly crowded.

After a few hours, he'd negotiated passage to the Imperial City on a tramp trader for what he considered an outrageous fee ... almost as bad as some of the bribes he'd gotten for the Dragon Lady's time, back in the good days. If other refugees had to pay what he did, these merchant captains would be very well off with just the one trip!

But if he wanted to get out of Alinor, he didn't have a great deal of choice, so he did what he had to, and about a week later, he disembarked at the Imperial City. He had spent the trip learning northern geography, and the ship's officers had advised him on the best low-cost places to stay and buy supplies, so he took advantage of that, and by the time he was ready to buy a horse the next morning, he had some nice elven armor - definitely not the gilded style of a Thalmor soldier - and supplies for a fairly long trip, though he'd probably restock in Bruma.

The ride there gave him plenty of time to think about his future, which inevitably led him to thoughts of the Dragon Lady ... usually called Ysmir in Skyrim, he learned. He found himself missing her, and not just for the time in bed. Once he'd won that bet and been named her manager, he'd spent quite a bit of time with her, and rapidly come to actually like her, despite her communication difficulties.

He'd learned she lived at a place called Lakeview Manor, in Skyhold Hold, of which she was Jarl. It amused him how easy it was to learn things about her ... she was clearly well-liked, and there was widespread happiness that she was pregnant, "by the blessing of Akatosh". The capital of her Hold was Helgen, where she'd first encountered Alduin World-Eater, and which she'd had rebuilt.

The more he learned, the more he regretted his actions during the first month and a half of her captivity. Sure, he'd been under orders, but helping to take revenge on the greatest enemy of the Thalmor hadn't exactly been oppressive duty, brutal though it had been. Now he wanted to find her and apologize for himself and his troopers. Not for the Justiciars, though; he'd had no authority over them.

But for his greatest mistake as her manager? Yes, he definitely owed her an apology for that one, and it was totally his fault, for not thinking to ask how she felt about female lovers. She'd explained to him later that dragons never did that sort of thing, found even the thought revolting, and he'd paid for the Justiciar's injuries, plus a penalty; even blunted, the Dragon Lady's claws did damage, and her fangs did more.

In Bruma, he replenished his supplies, and was advised to trade in his Cyrodiil horse for a Skyrim one before heading over Pale Pass. He did so, looking a bit dubious at the stocky, shaggy beast he got, but as he ascended the Pass, he began to appreciate it. It was more stolid than he was used to, but also more sure-footed. And that proved just as important on the trip up.

He debated whether to use his own name or a false one once he got into Skyrim. Once he'd gotten off the ship, no one seemed to know who Seridur was - hardly surprising, since he'd been a mere sergeant in charge of a single squad. So that seemed safe enough, at least at first ... but Derisur if his own name got a negative reaction the first time he used it.

He was challenged at the Skyrim border, by a Legionnaire and a Skyguard, with a dragon lazing on a sunny rock not far away. "Welcome to Skyrim," the Skyguard said. "One of the refugees from the Isles, huh?"

Seridur nodded. "Yes ... Seridur, formerly of the Thalmor military."

The Skyguard grinned. "Sergeant of Dovahkiin's guard? We can't be that lucky!"

Seridur frowned, getting ready to turn his horse and run, though that wouldn't do much good if the dragon pursued. "Ah ... yes. I was ... hoping to see her, make some apologies."

The dragon rose and stretched, approaching. "Zu'u Nahyolqo - in Common, I am Fury Fire Lightning. You will see her soon, as she wishes it as well. He raised his head and Called. "Dovahkiin ko Helgen. Mu meyz voth Seridur."

The reply sounded happy. "Geh! Zu'u bo. Kogaan ko hi ahrk mok!"

The dragon snorted at Seridur. "Leave your horse with Sargon, then mount me. Harimund and I will fly you to Helgen to meet Dovahkiin."

"Ah ... " Seridur had been dubious about riding what looked like a shaggy draft horse, but the idea of riding a dragon was frightening. "What were you saying?"

"I told her to meet us at Helgen, that we were coming with you. She agreed, and sent blessings to us and you." The dragon crouched, extending his folded wing. "Watch how Harimund mounts, then do the same."

Seridur did as he was told, trying not to show his reluctance. As soon as he was settled behind Harimund, the dragon took off. Seridur managed not to cry out, but he did clutch Harimund's waist.

Once they were airborne, it wasn't so bad, and it was fascinating to see the land from above, like an incredibly detailed map. And flying was fast - the distance they covered in a few minutes would have taken days on horseback, even longer on foot.

There was a red dragon perched on the roof of a shop when the one he was riding landed in a plaza in front of a large pavilion. Seridur dismounted, not very gracefully, and the dragon took off again. Another Skyguard approached him and bowed. "Seridur? I'm Captain Hadvar. The Jarl is waiting for you." He gestured to the far end of the pavilion, where a small Khajiit was sitting on a very large throne.

He approached slowly. The Dragon Lady was hard to recognize, fully clad in a brocade robe and wearing a crown, but he bowed when he got close enough to see her face. "It's good to see you again, Majesty. I hope you're well."

Yssha rose and stepped down from the throne dais, smiling and extending her hands. "I am doing very well, my friend. I am delighted to see that you escaped the destruction."

She had a very nice voice, he decided, and a pleasant undertone that sounded like a tiny purr. He took her offered hands. "I'm afraid I lost the gleamblossoms for your tisane, though."

She chuckle-purred, and the men standing beside the throne laughed. "It is all right. Come, let me introduce you." The larger man, an armored Nord, was Argis the Bulwark, her housecarl. Seridur gulped as the introduced the other, an Imperial in Daedric armor, as her husband, Marcurio.

It surprised him when Marcurio, instead of looking upset, offered a brief smile. "I understand I owe you thanks for stopping my wife's torture. I could wish you'd found a different method, but yours did work." He paused. "She killed Ungarion and Nerissa, by the way."

"Good!" Seridur was surprised again at his own vehemence. "Slowly, I hope."

"As slowly as can be done with a Shout, yes," Yssha replied. "Why? I had the impression you liked, or at least respected, them."

"Hated their guts would be more like it," Seridur said. "I couldn't let it show, of course, or I'd've become one of their victims instead of their squad's commander. I'm truly sorry I had to help with the torture. I hope you can forgive me, some eon, even if it's long after I'm dead. They did more and worse to you than they were able to with anyone else. Truth be told, I'm surprised you didn't go insane."

 _Is he being truthful, zeymah?_ Yssha sent. _If so, then I owe him the truth in return, and the forgiveness he asks._

 _He is, briinah,_ came the reply.

Yssha blinked, then took hold of Seridur's shoulders and pulled him down so she could lick his nose. "Talos tells me you are being honest, so yes, I forgive you. And I owe you some truth in turn."

"Huh? He talks to you?" Seridur asked, as he straightened.

"Indeed - he was also Dragonborn, so we are brother and sister, despite being born over six centuries apart and of different physical races." She paused. "You may find this difficult to believe, but all dragons are, since Akatosh is Father of all our souls, siblings."

"You mean you were avenged by family, not just your subjects?"

"Yes ... and protected by those within me, as well."

Seridur frowned. "I don't understand - dragons within you? That's not possible."

Argis laughed. "Not the dragons themselves, no - but dragons absorb the souls of other dragons they kill, and it's a chain thing. So Ysmir has the souls of hundreds, maybe thousands, of dragons, within her."

"Three of whom are always awake," Yssha added. "The great majority are asleep most of the time, but wake when needed." She smiled. "So during the torture, I was being protected from the pain and mental damage by my internal family."

Seridur shook his head. "I still don't understand, but I'm glad, and you're clearly sane and happy. Also pregnant, if the rumors I heard on the way here are true."

"Quite true," Yssha said with a smile. "But I fear my hospitality is lacking ... please, come inside. You have been traveling, so some wine, and perhaps a meal, would be welcome."

"I'd enjoy that, yes. I ... hadn't expected such hospitality, Majesty."

That got a chuckle-purr. "Here, that would be 'My Jarl' or 'Your Grace' if we were being formal. But I would prefer it if you would use one of my names, all things considered."

Even Marcurio chuckled at that, as they entered the Palace. "Yeah. Maybe even Yssha, given the circumstances."

Yssha led them to the family dining room, had a servant take their orders, then smiled. "That would be appropriate, yes. He is not Family, but he did me a very great service, and I hope he will take on a certain task for me." She turned to Seridur. "Only if you are willing, of course. After your help earlier, I certainly have no desire to coerce you."

After their drinks were brought, and Seridur had sipped at some excellent wine, he studied Yssha briefly. "And what is it you wish of me?"

"To supervise the reconstruction and rehabilitation of the place I plan to live when my son is old and well-trained enough that I may abdicate my Jarldom and leave it to him. You will have as much help as you wish, and much as I hate to admit it after my upbringing, I actually liked the way you had my suite decorated." She grinned. "I love luxury, and my taste in colors has often been criticized. Skuldafn will keep you busy for some time. And if you can re-establish the connection to Mzulft, that would be an added bonus. At present, the only access is by dragon."

Seridur smiled. "I only have to please you, beautiful one? And you like my taste in decor?"

"Yes, and yes."

"I am at your service, my Lady Yssha." He gave her a seated bow. And Marcurio hid a grimace. Yssha's taste in interior decoration didn't match his, at all!


	18. Champions: Restoring the Artifacts

.

Chapter 18 - Champions: Restoring the Artifacts

Wylandriah entered the armory of Mistveil Keep, looking her usual absent-minded self. "I need a dagger," she told the armorer on duty.

"Anything in particular?" he asked.

"A nice one - something sharp, with a scabbard, not enchanted. Oh, and an ebony sword, if you have one."

The armorer chuckled. "Neither one is a problem, ma'am. Some new experiments?"

Wylandriah nodded, though in truth, she wasn't sure why she did want the weapons. It was an urge she didn't understand. The dagger, perhaps, though she already had a perfectly good eating knife, but a sword she couldn't use and would never carry?

Still, she accepted the ebony dagger and sword, and took them back to her workshop. The door closed behind her and she put the weapons on the counter, then turned to see if someone had followed her in.

Some _one_? No. But some _thing_ , yes, and she recognized it. "I thought you'd be larger, Lord." It was a mass of writhing tentacles with a large central eye and numerous smaller ones. But she'd always imagined it as huge, certainly not smaller than a human head.

Its voice was amused. "In a larger place, yes. Your search for knowledge is ... most impressive. You please me."

Wylandriah smiled. "Thank you, Lord. May I ask why you would come to me?"

"Certainly. You are not a formal devotee of mine, but all those who seek knowledge fall within my realm to a greater or lesser degree. I offer you the chance to serve me more directly, even to become my champion."

That was astonishing, and it puzzled her, but ... "Your champion, Lord? To serve you here now, and in Apocrypha later?"

The tentacle-mass gave the impression of nodding. "Precisely, mortal. And as my champion, you will be able to enter Apocrypha during your life as well, by using my Black Books."

"That is incredibly tempting, Lord," Wylandriah said. "What must I do to earn such an honor?"

It seemed to smile. "You have already begun, by obtaining the raw materials you did not already have, the ebony dagger and sword. The skull and unpurposed staff you already had."

Wylandriah nodded. "I believe I understand, my Lord. It's common knowledge the Dragonborn has been obtaining artifacts of several Daedric Princes and making them vanish. I would imagine the affected Princes want to replace their artifacts, and you want me to help."

"Very perceptive," Hermaeus Mora complimented her. "We are banned from manifesting physically, so we have to work through mortals. It is clumsy, but you will learn new spells as you are used to enchant and sanctify the replacements for the stolen artifacts."

"And your artifacts, my Lord?"

"Are the Black Books, which she used but did not steal, and the Oghma Infinium, which she earned honestly and returned to me when she had read it. No, her offense to me was her first insulting refusal to serve me, followed by her refusal, in my own realm, to replace Miraak as my champion when his usefulness to me was over."

Wylandriah could understand that; she didn't like having her own pride offended, and she was no Daedric Prince. She wasn't too thrilled at the idea of being what sounded like being possessed by three Princes, but the temptation of unlimited knowledge in return was irresistible. Still, the prospect _was_ frightening.

"You are right to be apprehensive," Hermaeus Mora said. "Mantling a Daedric Prince, at least those whose artifacts were stolen, is unpleasant for a mortal. But I assure you that you will not be harmed. Those who serve us are rewarded, not the reverse."

"Very well, my Lord." Wylandriah's smile was nervous, but it was a smile nonetheless. "What do I have to do?"

"Simply try not to resist."

* * *

When Wylandriah came back to herself, she remembered nothing of what she'd done under the Princes' influence, but she knew she'd done something, because the dagger, sword, and skull-and-staff looked different, and seemed to radiate menace. Hermaeus Mora was still there, so she asked, "What are these?"

"The dagger is Mehrune's Razor, the sword is Mephala's Ebony Blade, and the staff is Vaermina's Skull of Corruption. You did very well, my champion, though for your sanity, I removed all memory except for how to do the spells on all three." A tentacle gestured, and a tome bound in elfskin appeared. "The first part of what you have earned from me. This is the Oghma Infinium. I would recommend, given your interests, that you choose the Path of Sorcery, but that is up to you. When you have read it, it will return to me."

"I understand, my Lord, and thank you for both." Wylandriah smiled. "What next?"

"When you have the opportunity to visit Solstheim, you will be led to the Black Books, which will give you temporary access to Apocrypha. Do not fear the Lurkers and Seekers you will find there; they are my creatures, and bound to serve my champion. They will obey you, as they obeyed Miraak before you."

"Thank you, my Lord - I will. But what am I supposed to do with the artifacts?"

"You? Nothing. They will find their proper wielders as they are bespelled to do."

Which was to kill, but then, that was true of any weapon, enchanted or not, so Wylandriah shrugged.

* * *

For some reason she didn't understand - not that she usually understood the reason for anything - Hefid the Deaf followed a pleasant voice out of the Ratway Warrens, carrying a dagger that felt strange, somehow. The voice was kind and soothing, so she followed it, even out of the Warrens and to the surface. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she saw moonlight, and it made her blink. She mumbled her comforting litany as she followed the voice through torch-lit streets. "nkpot. Stone. Bucket. Book. Knife.

"Bucket. Knife. Book. Inkpot. Stone."

It led her to an entrance to the right of the stairs up to Mistveil Keep. She went in, seeing a guard and three prisoners, one of whom attracted her attention, and she smiled. Her new knife wanted one of the prisoners, it did ... but the guard needed to be first, the voice said. So she slit his throat before he could react, a bit surprised that she could move so fast, then she took his keys and went to the cell that held the interesting one. "Yes, unlock it," the voice told her. "That key, yes."

She did as she was told, then killed the interesting one with barely a touch of her blade, and the voice praised her, thanking her for the soul. "Now clean up, then wait. I'll handle the noisy ones."

She hadn't noticed, until the other two got quiet. She found some water and cleaned herself off, then waited patiently, muttering her litany, until the voice urged her to move again. It was dark when she left the jail and went up the Mistveil Keep stairs. At the top, there were two guards, slumped on either side of the doors.

She entered a silent great hall with a couple of more slumped guards, and followed the voice upstairs, past guard barracks, to private sleeping rooms. She fed her blade whatever the voice guided her to. A mature woman, a man, a young woman ... a few others it didn't particularly care about, one of whom made her stomach churn, so she killed him.

Then the kindly voice bade her goodbye, and spoke to another. "Thanks for letting me borrow her, Sheo. But she's your problem again, I'm afraid."

"Problem? Not at all." The new voice seemed to be smiling at her. "You've been in my realm for several years now, Hefid, but you've been in exile. Would you like to come home now?"

"Daddy?" Hefid felt hope, for the first time in ... how long? "I can come home?"

"Of course, my dear. Just use brother Mehrunes' dagger, and I'll welcome you to the Shivering Isles personally."

* * *

As soon as Balgruuf heard about the murders in Riften, he sent for Yssha, and took her and Marcurio to his office for a private audience, where he showed them the report he'd gotten. When they'd had a chance to absorb it, he asked, "What do you think?"

"It would seem those murders were done with Mehrunes' Razor," she said, after some study. "Instant kills, all of them, despite most of the wounds being in areas that would not normally be life-threatening. But ... the pattern is not consistent."

"What do you mean?"

"There are survivors," Yssha said. "The only dead are the Black-Briar family, one guard, and a woman who appears to be from the Ratway Warrens. The housecarl and court mage, as well as most of the guards, are unharmed. At the orphanage in Markarth, everyone in or guarding the building was killed."

"Yes, that's true," Balgruuf conceded. "But Riften's in chaos, with its Jarl and all her heirs dead. I'm going to have to appoint a new Jarl as soon as I can find someone suitable. Given your familiarity with the city, do you have any suggestions?"

"Were it not for her attitude toward my Guild, I would strongly recommend Mjoll the Lioness. But to the best of my knowledge, she would gladly wipe us out, despite the good we do."

Marcurio chuckled. "You'd be surprised, then, love. While you were busy with mingling and the wedding, I talked to her and Andreius both. She's still not fond of the Guild, but she's come around to realizing you actually help keep thievery down, and help the Legion garrison."

"Ko vahzen?" That surprised her.

"Truly, indeed." Marcurio smiled. "You do have to give her credit for being both honest and a realist, love."

"Ah." Yssha smiled. "Thank you, beloved." She turned her attention to Balgruuf. "That being the case, I recommend her without reservation."

"She's it, then," Balgruuf said decisively. "Would you mind taking her the news? And ... will you tell her you're Guildmaster?"

"Of course, fahdoni. And ... perhaps. If she pledges to keep it to herself." Yssha sighed. "It is bad enough Stormcrown is known as promiscuous, thanks to the Thalmor. But it should not be widely known that she is also Master of the Thieves Guild."

"A good point. Use your own judgement, but please, try to remain Guildmaster throughout my reign. As I mentioned earlier, it's reassuring to have a Guildmaster I know and trust."

* * *

As they left Dragonsreach to rejoin Odahviing, Marcurio said, "You really think it was Mehrune's Razor?"

Yssha sighed heavily. "I am afraid so, given the instant kills from no more than a minor wound. It seems our efforts to remove such artifacts from Mundus were useless. At this point, I would not be surprised if the mace in Calcelmo's museum, the one that was used in the orphanage, was a new version of Molag Bal's."

"Which probably means the Ebony Blade and Skull of Corruption are back in circulation again, too." Marcurio snarled. "Is there nothing permanent we can do to protect people from the evil Princes?"

Yssha had no answer for that, and said so. "But at the moment, it does not matter. We must get to Riften and speak to Mjoll."

* * *

Her first stop was the Hall of the Dead, to see if the Jarl's circlet was there. It was, and the priestess, Alessandra, had no hesitation in giving it to her. The next order of business was finding Mjoll, which was more difficult, given the disorder in the streets. She found Legate Fasendil in the Mistveil Keep strategy room.

"It is good to see you again, Legate," Yssha said, "though I must regret the circumstances. I need to find Mjoll the Lioness, if you could ask your people to send her here if she is seen."

Fasendil nodded, calling a runner over. He passed the order along, and she left. "Are you here for any particular reason, Legate?" he asked.

Yssha nodded, showing him the circlet. "High King Balgruuf thought it important to replace the Jarl immediately, to try to restore order and calm. That will be Mjoll, if she accepts. Now, what can you tell me about what happened last night? The message you sent was rather sketchy."

"I know, and I'm working on a fuller version. Not that it'll be much fuller, I'm afraid. It seems everyone who was on duty - or even just awake - in the Keep was unconscious for some time. About an hour, as closely as we can tell. More than long enough for that beggar woman to do what she came for, anyway. She was Hefid the Deaf, from down in the Ratway Warrens, according to Guild-Second Brynjolf."

Yssha nodded. "I have known him since I first visited Riften. It was he, in fact, who pointed Marcurio out to me when I mentioned I was looking for a mercenary to hire."

Fasendil smiled. "That's pretty well known, yes. Then he brought the entire Thieves Guild to your wedding, with you in Guild armor yourself. Seems odd to think of the Dragonborn as a Guild member, though."

The runner returned then, with Mjoll and Aerin following her. "Yes, it does," Mjoll agreed as she joined Yssha, Fasendil, and Marcurio. "Why did you want to see me?"

Yssha shrugged. "First, I joined the Guild because my greats-grandmother, the Divine Crusader, strongly recommended it. You will find the same true of most adventurers from her Clan, purely as a practical matter."

Then she gave Mjoll her full attention. "His Highness, High King Balgruuf, wishes to name you Jarl of the Rift, if you are willing to accept the responsibility."

Mjoll looked stunned. "Me? Why me?"

Yssha smiled. "Remember all those discussions we had about Riften and its corruption?

When Mjoll nodded, Yssha smiled again. "I fear I am to blame. Between those, and learning that you have modified your opinions about getting rid of the Guild, I recommended you when he asked for my opinion."

Mjoll grimaced. "I had no choice, you know. I still dislike the Guild, but ... when they extort protection money now, they actually provide that protection, at least from free-lancers. A couple of months ago, the Pawned Prawn was robbed. Three days later, Bersi had his merchandise back, plus some extra gold, and the robbers were tied up on the steps of Mistveil Keep, in need of healers. That wasn't true under Mercer Frey. I think I could work with the new Guildmaster, but no one will tell me who he is."

"Would you let your name be spread, if you were in this Guildmaster's position? I would not."

Mjoll chuckled. "You have a point, Ysmir. I suppose Brynjolf can keep in touch with him, so that should do. I'd still like to meet him some day, though."

"Who can know what the Divines may will?" Yssha smiled. "So will you accept the position?"

Mjoll hesitated briefly, then nodded.

Yssha stood on tiptoes to put the circlet on Mjoll's head, then smiled. "Corgratulations, Jarl Mjoll. You will have to fly to Whiterun to swear fealty to the High King, but under the circumstances, you should have a week or two to do so."


	19. The Hatchlings

.

Chapter 19 - The Hatchlings

Yssha and Marcurio were sparring with Ralof and his team while Ahkrinbo was giving the rest a lesson in Dovahzul, when she heard wingbeats and Odahviing landed. "Mount up," he told them. "Fusmulgar's eggs are ready to hatch."

Nevan and Serana joined them in mounting Odahviing while Ralof and his team ran to Ahkrinbo and mounted as well. Both dragons took wing, and arrowed toward the Eastmarch hot springs.

* * *

Andreius and the touring group were finishing a late breakfast at the Windpeak Inn when they heard dragon wings and Odkiinbrii calling Arenim's name. They hurried outside, to find Odkiinbrii already crouched so they could mount. "Hurry! You will never see anything like this again!"

* * *

There were hundreds of dragons at the hot springs when Odahviing arrived, but space was made for him near Fusmulgar, by Farengar's tent, and more for Odkiinbrii when Yssha asked it. More arrived by the minute, most having to remain airborne, for lack of room within viewing distance on the ground. Elk and bear carcasses waited near the eggs.

Yssha went over to Fusmulgar and Farengar. "Drem yol lok, dii fahdonne," she said. "Why so many spectators? Or is this normal?"

Fusmulgar snorted a laugh. "Spectators for any hatching are normal, since even singles are rare. For an unprecedented four eggs at once? Any dovah who can possibly be here will be, even if he cannot see much, just to be able to say he _was_ here."

Imiril approached, and bowed to the dragon. "Drem yol lok, Fusmulgar. Zu'u Imiril. I am honored to be here for such an auspicious happening."

"Drem yol lok, Imiril. That is most courteous of you, young one." She gape-grinned. "I understand congratulations are in order, and that your mate rides Odkiinbrii."

"Thank you, and yes, she does." Imiril smiled. Then he heard a sharp rapping noise, and turned to face it, seeing one of the eggs move. "Oh!"

He wasn't the only one staring at the dull, whitish ovoid. It was rocking, almost rolling over, then a small hole appeared, cracks spreading around it, and he gasped.

Yssha touched his shoulder. "Awesome, is it not? A child of Auri-El emerging into Mundus?"

"I wouldn't have said it like that, but yes." He looked down at her briefly, then back at the egg. The cracks were spreading rapidly, and the dragonet began to emerge, damp and clumsy, about the size of a large Nord man, struggling to spread its wings.

As soon as it emerged fully, it looked around and scrambled to the nearest carcass, a bear, and began tearing into it. A second egg began moving, then the third, and a couple of minutes later, the last. No more than ten minutes after the first sign of hatching, there were four dragonets tearing enthusiastically at their first breakfasts.

As they dried out and their color became more clear, Yssha smiled. They were a shade between Fusmulgar's purple and Odahviing's red, accented with black, and some white on the wings. "They are lovely," she said. "They will be awesome as adults, I am sure. How long will that take, do you know?"

"Far less time than you would think," Fusmulgar replied. "They start out so small only because they must fit in eggs a female dragon can lay. Once hatched, that limitation no longer applies, and their rate of growth is limited only by their food supply."

"Which will be quite generous," Odahviing said. "As with being here for the hatching, others will help hunt, just to be able to say they did. With an essentially unlimited food supply, they should be adult in a moon, perhaps a bit less."

"Wow!" Imiril exclaimed. "That's ... awesome. Uh, what will you name them?"

Fusmulgar rumbled a chuckle. "They are born with names, as they are born with our language and other basic knowledge. You can ask them, if you can catch them between eating, eliminating, and sleeping."

Yssha chuckled at that. She hadn't thought of it until then, but if they would be eating as much as Odahviing implied, they'd also be eliminating a lot. "I would hope they eliminate away from where they eat and sleep!"

"Of course." Fusmulgar gape-grinned. "Even a hatchling has enough magic to fly several hundred yards for that purpose. If they were birds, perhaps you would call them fledglings, straight out of the egg."

The first one had finished his meal, and approached Fusmulgar, rather clumsily. "Monah?"

"Geh, kiir?"

"Zu'u Lokmoroag, ko vahrukt do Lokmoroyol." The dragonet turned to Yssha. "Dii thur ahrk dii jud."

Yssha blinked back tears, and sensed awe from Lokmoroyol. When she composed herself, she gave the formal reply. "Zu'u Dovahkiin, hin thur ahrk hin jud," then added, "Naak ahrk naram, vahriini."

"I, um, didn't catch all of that," Imiril said. "Would you mind?"

"What part?"

"After Fusmulgar said, 'yes, child?'". Imiril said. "The dragonet said he was Sky Glory Burn, I think, but after that I lost it."

"'In memory of Lokmoroyol'," she replied. "Sky Glory Fire, who is one of the three always-awake souls within me. Then we went through him - or possibly her, I did not think to ask - calling me overlord and queen, and me accepting him. Then I told him to eat and grow."

"Thank you." Imiril turned to Fusmulgar. "They are born - I mean hatched - knowing her?"

The dragon shrugged. "I was created knowing who Alduin was, so why not? Most of us were created adult, and those who were hatched have almost the same knowledge, so yes. Unlike vodov, we must have full function quickly. On Akavir, to be otherwise would result in a swift death, and Bormah is not so wasteful."

"I think I understand." He hesitated, seeing a second dragonet approaching. "May I try?"

"If you wish." But to Imiril's disappointment, the dragonet bumbled past him as nothing but an ignorable obstacle, and approached Yssha.

"Zu'u Mirmulthur, dii thur ahrk dii jud," the dragonet said, still nibbling on a bit of bear. Yssha repeated her part of the ceremony, then turned to Imiril. "Please, do not be offended. This is a thing we must do, them acknowledging me as overlord and queen, and me acknowledging them. Though I did not know the recognition ceremony took place with hatchlings."

"I'm a king," Imiril reassured her. "I know how important fealty ceremonies are. I'd like to talk to one of them, though ... but I'm afraid my Dovahzul isn't good enough, and they may not know Common yet."

"They do not," Fusmulgar told him. "Common - or Cyrodiilic, if you prefer - is too new to have been encoded in dragon ancestral memory. But if you can find one awake after eating and pledging, I am sure one of the adults will translate."

When the third dragonet approached, it dropped a chunk of elk in front of Imiril and burped loudly before going to Yssha for the recognition ceremony. Imiril looked at Fusmulgar curiously. "What does that mean?"

Fusmulgar shrugged. "Suleykaar likes you? I do not know. This is not something I have ever seen."

Once the dragonet had finished the ceremony, it returned to Imiril, nudged him to the ground with its snout, and settled beside him, spreading a wing over the young Altmer. "Dii. Ahrk hin kiim ahrk kiirre, mafaeraak." Then it fell asleep.

Imiril squirmed under the wing for a couple of minutes, then decided he liked the feeling, and quit resisting.

Yssha approached him, chuckle-purring. "Do you require assistance, my young friend?"

"Actually, I rather like it under his wing, except that the ground is pretty damp. But I'd rather not disturb him."

"I think I can get enough weight off you so you can crawl out without waking him." She went to the first joint in the wing and lifted, slowly and gently, until Imiril was able to emerge.

When he stood and futilely brushed off his armor, she led him a bit away from the dragonet. "Were you able to understand what he told you?"

"Uh, part. 'Mine. And your something, and something else, forever." But what does it mean?"

It was Fusmulgar who replied. "It seems one of my kul has decided to take you, your wife, and your children under his protection, for as long as your line lasts."

"And his wife is my partner," Odkiinbrii said calmly. "So the Alinor royal family has two dovah protectors. Or will, when Suleykaar is an adult."

"Is this normal?" Yssha asked. "I do not have shared memories of any such thing, though I must admit that I have only six weeks of shared memories out of over four thousand years of thousands of dovah's experiences."

Fusmulgar gape-grinned. "It is not normal, Dovahkiin-thur. But you will have time to share as many memories as you wish, and will find that, while it is rare, it has happened before."

The final dragonet approached Yssha, introduced himself as Sahlokah, went through the ceremony, and fell asleep a few yards away.

With that, most of the dragons and riders departed. Half a dozen returned later to drop off several wolves, another bear, and two deer, then flew away again.

That left three dragons, four sleeping dragonets, and seven vodov at the hatching site. Imiril looked at them, grinning. "That was ... unexpected, but I like it. There's something about being under the wing of a dragon who obviously likes you, even if he knocked you over to provide it, that's ... incredibly reassuring."

Yssha smiled. "It is, yes. I have sheltered under Odahviing's wings a few times, and under Paarthurnax's I believe twice. Keep Suleykaar in your confidence, and in time, he will become an advisor - pruzaak. Literally, good guide."

Imiril nodded, smiling again. "I shall. A ruler needs good counsel, from anyone willing to give it."

"Just remember that good counsel doesn't mean telling you only what you want to hear," Andreius said wryly.

Imiril grimaced. "Father beat that into me several times, once he had me start to come to council meetings. I learned very early to be skeptical of advisors who agreed with me even most of the time." He sighed. "I was well trained for my job, if nothing else."

"Good." Andreius smiled, then turned to Fusmulgar. "You said about a month till he's adult?"

"Assuming the amount of food I expect them to get, that seems a reasonable estimate. Why?"

"Because I got the distinct impression that he's going to want to join Imiril as soon as he can, and we'll be traveling - I have no idea where we're going to be."

Odkiinbrii snorted a laugh. "He has only to Shout my name, and I will guide him to our group. As a safety measure, he will be unable to Shout until he is adult enough to know when and how to do so."

"He can talk, but not Shout?" Imiril asked. "That seems odd."

"Why?" Fusmulgar asked. "Bormahu is wise, and hatchlings' brains need to grow before they can be given the maturity He deems necessary to Shout. Even then, they will get the purely defensive ones first."

Imiril nodded, understanding. "I see. That makes sense, now."

"Yes, it does," Andreius said. "But it looks like the excitement's over, so let's get back to Dawnstar, pick up our horses, and head for Solitude. Imiril needs to see the official capital of Skyrim, after all."

* * *

When they landed at Dawnstar, though, they found a courier waiting. He approached Sorcalin, and bowed. "A letter from Jarl Nenya, Master Sorcalin."

"Thank you." Sorcalin opened the letter, read it, then carefully returned it to its envelope before turning to the others. "Another change of plans, it seems. Jarl Nenya has a werewolf problem, and would like our help."

"How bad?" Andreius asked.

"I won't be able to say for sure until I speak to her, but bad enough that he killed a little girl."

"They have him captive?" Imiril sounded disbelieving. "I didn't think that was possible!"

"He's in a cell in the basement of the Falkreath guard barracks. That's all I can tell you until we see him."

Andreius nodded. "We have to go, then. Let me pay for another couple of days for our horses, then if Odkiinbrii would be kind enough - ?"

"Of course," the dovah responded. "I will be waiting."


	20. Ill Met by Midnight

.Author's Note: My apologies for not keeping to my posting schedule. The battery on my wifi hotspot decided to get fat, and I was unable to find any replacements locally. Then the one I ordered from Amazon got put on back-order. I'm risking using the old, defective battery to get this up to let you know what's going on, but I have no idea how soon I'll be able to start posting on a regular basis again.

* * *

Chapter 20 - Ill Met by Moonlight

Andreius led the group into Falkreath as soon as Odkiinbrii landed, going directly toward the Hall of the Dead, but they paused when he heard Brother Runil delivering burial rites.

"The god Arkay was once like us, bound to winding mortality. But he willingly gave up this existence that we might better understand the vagaries of life and death. It is through the ebb and flow of this cosmic tide that we find renewal and, in the end, peace. May the spirit of Lavinia and all those who have left this world and its suffering know the beloved serenity of Aetherius... and may we one day rejoin them in eternity."

When the service was over, he approached one of the mourners, who simply looked at him for a moment, then sighed and said, "A sad time."

"Indeed," Andreius replied. "Who died?"

"Our daughter. Our little girl. She hadn't seen her tenth winter."

"You have our condolences," Andreius said soberly. "How did she die?"

"She was... he ripped her apart. Like a sabre cat tears a deer. We barely found enough of her to bury."

Sorcalin frowned. "Who did that to her?"

"Sinding." He almost spat the name. "Came through as a laborer. Seemed like a decent man. He's stewing in the pit while we figure out what to do with him, if you've got the stomach to look at him. What could drive a man to do something like this?"

"In the pit?"

"A cell under the Guard barracks." The man sighed. "If you'll forgive me, Indara and I need to get a drink, and then care for our animals."

Sorcalin nodded. "May the Nine comfort you." He watched them leave, then turned to Andreius. "I think we should check out this Sinding. That description of what he did to the girl ... bothers me."

Minutes later, he was approaching Sinding's basement cell, having left Imiril and Arenim upstairs, with Andreius to protect them if something went wrong. When he neared the cell door, Sorcalin saw a Nord man, wearing ragged trousers with a rope belt, and generally shabby looking. "Come to gawk at the monster?" he said, sounding tired.

"Not exactly," Sorcalin said. "We were told you attacked an killed a little girl. Why?"

"Believe me, it wasn't anything I ever intended to do. I just..." He stopped as his voice cracked. "I ... can't control my transformations, and when I go were, the bloodlust takes over."

"I know," Sorcalin said, causing the nord to look up at him for the first time with anger.

"How could you possibly know, when ... " Sinding stoped midshout and frowned, taking a deep breath as he took notice of the new scent of wet dog. "You... you're one of us."

"Yes," Sorcalin answered quietly.

"Then you know what it's like."

"I remember, yes," Sorcalin admitted. "But I stayed away from population centers until I learned to control myself."

"Did you change at random, or only on full moons?" Sinding asked bitterly. "I tried that, but sometimes you need to earn money for things you can only get in town." He sighed again. "I had just come into Falkreath. They needed some help working the mill, and I thought that would be something safe. Something I could do. I felt calm, as much in control as I can ever be."

"Obviously not as much as you thought."

"Obviously," Sinding agreed. "For a few days everything went just fine and I hoped, for just a moment, that I could perhaps stay here."

"But then you saw that little girl." Sorcalin continued, to which Sinding nodded.

"Yes. I saw her just outside the gates as I went to the mill. I didn't think much of her just then, but once I started working, I couldn't stop thinking about her. At first I hoped it was just concern about her being outside the town, but then ... "

He paused as he tried to compose himself, without much success. "I couldn't stop thinking how she smelled and would taste, and before I realized what was happening, I found myself walking to where I'd seen her. I knew what was coming and tried to fight it, warn someone of what was about to happen. But I couldn't."

He looked at Sorcalin, clearly hoping to find understanding. "I needed to hunt. But this pitiful, limited body wasn't meant for hunting. Slow. No claws. Weak, mashing teeth for chewing cud. I held in my rage as long as I could. But it boiled inside of me. She looked so fragile. Helpless prey. And then ... I feel terrible about what happened. About what I did." He shook his head. "And terrified - they're going to kill me!"

With that, he shifted, then bolted out of the pit.

Sorcalin cursed as he used his ring to transform, hoping that he could stop Sinding's wolf before any more inocent lives got taken. As he climbed the stairs, bumping several times against the wall due to his size after the transformation, he started to hear screams of the civilians and Andreius barking orders to the guards, ordering them to get everyone inside and stay out of the werewolf's way.

He ignored everyone , pushing through the crowd to the open door, only vaguely aware that someone recognized him. The doorway was too small, so he ripped the door completely off its hinges so he could squeeze out. Andreius was holding Sinding off, and Sorcalin charged, ramming into the werewolf as Sinding lunged toward his parter.

Andreius knew to back off as the two werewolves fought, rolling in the street as they clawed and bit. Considering the relative sizes and the fact that Sor was armored, the only surprise was that the fight lasted almost a full minute befere Sorcalin got his jaws around Sinding's throat and the other went limp, transforming back.

Sorcalin stood and picked up the Nord, then carried him out of town, frowning and wondering what to do with him. Yes, he knew justice required that Sinding die ... but he also remembered very clearly how irresistible the blood-lust had been in his own early days as a werewolf, before he and his wolf-spirit had come to terms. Perhaps find a pack for him - ?

Several shapes appeared, faintly at first, then seeming to solidify, and Sorcalin inclined his head to the central one, which had a human body and a deer head.

"Do not hesitate, my champion," he was told. "This one is worth neither your time nor your hunting skill. He is a weakling and a disappointment, but unfortunately he is still mine, and has a place in the Hunting Grounds. Shall I give him another chance to prove himself?"

Sorcalin nodded again. _Perhaps with an isolated pack, where he can strengthen himself_.

"So be it, then, my champion." Hircine nodded, slowly. "There is such a pack, east of Boethia's Sacellum and Narzulbur. Take him there, if you think him salvageable."

 _I do not know, my Lord, but in similar circumstances, I would appreciate such a chance._

"Do so, then, with my blessing."

* * *

Half an hour later, the four had landed back in Dawnstar, and were sharing drinks and a meal in the Frozen Hearth. "Where next?" Imiril asked. "Solitude, wasn't it?"

"That was the original itinerary," Andreius replied, "but we were originally going from Riften by way of Windhelm, Winterhold, then here, until we got sidetracked by the Great Restoration. So backtrack to Windhelm and maybe Solstheim, then back here and get back to the itinerary, or skip those two?"

"Don't skip Solstheim, please!" Arenim exclaimed. "I would really like to visit Dovahkiin's Temple. I understand she would rather not be worshiped, but ... for us Odmer, that is not a realistic expectation."

"Backtrack, then," Imiril said, smiling at his wife, then turning to Andreius. "Since you asked."

"I did, indeed, and we'll do so. If Odkiinbrii will fly us to Windhelm, since we've already been to Winterhold, and they don't have a stable."

"He will," Arenim replied confidently.

* * *

Imiril was appalled at Windhelm's state of disrepair, and the hostility it still held to non-Nords. "This used to be your capital?" he asked Andreius. "It's ... umm. Not quite what I'd expect of a capital."

"It used to be, yes, but that was a long time ago, as you can tell by how badly steps and such are worn.

"Solitude's the nominal capital now, though Whiterun's the de facto capital, since that's where High King Balgruuf lives. Both are a lot nicer. And I might point out that Jarl Brunwulf here is making changes as quickly as his people's attitudes will allow. Argonians still live on the docks, but Dunmer are starting to move outside the Grey Quarter, and Khajiit are allowed inside the gates during the day."

"Nothing like Helgen, then," Arenim commented.

"No," Andreius agreed. "Helgen's unique at this point, but that'll change, I predict. Helgen's prosperity is quite an incentive to copy it. Windhelm will get there in time."

A touch on Arenim's shoulder caused her to turn, and see another Odmer in priestly robes smiling at her. "Greetings, cousin. Are you and your companions here for the pilgrimage?"

"Pilgrimage? To the temple of She Who Restores?"

"Indeed." The priest smiled again. "If so, you would be welcome to join me and my followers. We'll be leaving on the _Northern Maiden_ at the morning high tide. Though you might need to pay extra."

She glanced at Andreius, who shrugged. "Up to you and Imiril," he said. "We're in no hurry."

"Yes, let's join them," Imiril said. He was supposed to be learning about the Empire, after all, and he could do that better aboard ship than simply flying to Solstheim on Odkiinbrii.

They had a pleasant evening with the group of pilgrims, then - after paying Captain Gjalund extra, yes - a not-unpleasant, if rather choppy, trip to Solstheim.

* * *

The group stopped at the Retching Netch for the night, where Andreius took the opportunity to speak to a friend of his. Sitting at the bar, he ordered a sujamma, then grinned. "Looks like you're pretty busy tonight, Geldis."

The Dunmer returned the grin. "Not particularly, these days. Between the mine opening back up and the new deposits Gratian's sniffed out, plus the pilgrims visiting Dovahkiinro Temple, this is pretty much the norm. I've had to expand, and there are a couple of new corner clubs under construction. Councilor Morvayn is elated at the prosperity, and the renewed support he's getting from House Redoran."

Teldryn Sero joined Andreius. "Been a while, Andreius," he said. "We hear you've been busy, you and Sorcalin."

"Probably ... hmm. Five years, maybe, since Sor and I were here last. The place doesn't seem all that different, at least on the surface. Yeah, we've been busy, recently, especially since the end of the Second Great War."

Teldryn snorted. "On the surface, yeah. But Geldis is right. Things have been changing fast the last several months, and the Dragonborn's as much a hero to Solstheim as you are to the whole of Morrowind." He chuckled at Andreius' expression. "Of course we know, and have for some time ... probably not long after you revealed yourself to the General Staff. Unless you make it clear you want something kept secret, the dragons will get any interesting information out in a hurry."

"I know," Andreius said with a sigh. "So you know she's pregnant, then."

"Of course. There was a big party the night we got the news she was safe, and another one when we got that news. Profitable as Oblivion, but I had to get an emergency resupply of food and booze afterward. Thank Azura for dragons willing to carry cargo!"

"Hmm? That's a new one - they are?"

"Well, a few ... not very many, and none of the major types, but a few ordinary ones or even Elders will, if you have a cow or good song to trade."

Andreius chuckled. "A good song or story from here, then, unless you've figured some way to raise cattle with no grass!"

"Right," Geldis said. "I don't suppose you could get Her Majesty to restore Morrowind the way she did Winterhold?"

Andreius laughed out loud. "She had nothing to do with that - and since she refused divinity, I don't think you can expect a positive response."

* * *

The walk from Raven Rock to Dovahkiinro Temple was silent except for prayers led by the priest. Like Arenim, all of the Odmer had been Restored by Yssha, and all were reluctant to use any of her names, out of respect ... Yssha, to them, was simply She or Her. Dovahkiin, perhaps, but only if necessary to specify who was meant.

Arenim caught her breath at her first sight of the Temple. It was complete, not like the sketches she'd seen of it under construction, and it was beautiful. Dragon mounds surrounded it, those who had been killed by Miraak and lived now in Her. And there was a statue of Her beside the main entrance - realistic, unlike the shrine at its base, the dragon-headed Khajiit; the statue was Herself, in dragonscale armor, with mace and sword at her sides, hands raised in blessing.

The pilgrims were met by Her only priestess, Qolaas. A Nord woman, clearly, one Arenim had been told had begun as a Dragon Priestess, killed and turned into a draugr, then restored by Her. Arenim, along with the rest of the pilgrims, began to kneel, but Qolaas said, "Nid. Remain standing, for Her Litany."

Heads bowed, but they remained standing, and Qolaas began the ceremony with prayers to Akatosh and Talos, then the litany itself.

"Mon do Akatosh, Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!" [Daughter of Akatosh, Dragonborn, for your blessings we pray!]

"Fah hin kogaan mu draal!" the pilgrims responded.

"Dovahkiin, Kriid do Faal Lein-Naakiik!" [Dragonborn, slayer of the World-Eater!]

"Fah hin kogaan mu draal!"

At the rear of the crowd, Andreius turned to Sorcalin and spoke softly, so as not to interrupt the rest of the litany. "Divines, I'm glad Yssha isn't here for this - she'd be horribly embarrassed."

"At best," Sorcalin agreed. "I feel sorry for her, you know. All she ever wanted was a normal life, and she's gotten the exact opposite. And I have a feeling she hasn't seen the last of the things she won't like."

Andreius nodded. "I'm pretty sure you're right. It's not even up to the level of a hunch, but ... maybe at least some things will get better for her, as well as worse."

"You'll do your best to see to that, I'm sure, and so will her winged sibs. And me, as long as I'm around."


	21. Valerica

Author's note: Thanks for your patience while I was off line. After this, I hope to be back on the regular Friday posting schedule again.

* * *

Chapter 21 - Valerica

It took Yssha a few seconds to realize what was different when Nevan and Serana entered Lakeview Manor, then she had to hold back a Shout of joy. "Serana! No crutches! And you are wearing Dawnbreaker!"

Serana grinned. "Yep. I'm fully functional again. We didn't want to share our progress until we had something major to show. Now we're starting to work on stuff more delicate than legs, like arms, hands, and fingers."

"And medical isn't the only place we're making progress," Nevan added. "It's just the most important, for a lot of people."

"We shall have to celebrate your recovery," Yssha said. "Does your mother know yet?"

"Not yet," serana replied. "We wanted to let you know first."

"Then we need to visit her," Yssha said with a smile. "She is worried about you, you know. And she and I have become friends, though I rarely have time to visit."

"Not surprising, with your shared interest in alchemy," Serana said. "Sure, let's pay her a visit."

"And we won't be needed in Blackreach for a couple of months," Nevan said. "Since your uncles are escorting King Imiril around the Empire, mind if we tag along with you and Marcurio for a while?"

"We would welcome it," Yssha said happily. "We have missed having you adventure with us, and I would like to complete my collection of Dragon Priest masks before I am too far along to wear my armor."

Serana chuckled. "A problem I hope to share fairly soon. I don't have a friendly Divine to bypass my cycle, like you did."

"I am sure Mara and perhaps Dibella will smile on you soon," Yssha said with a chuckle-purr. "We leave for Castle Volkihar in the morning, then."

* * *

Odahviing gape-grinned when he saw Yssha and her original team emerge from Lakeview. "Serana, it is good to see you walking again. Will you be accompanying my thur for a time?"

"Until we're needed in Blackreach or Andreius and Sorcalin return, yes." She chuckled. "Much as we enjoy our research, it's kind of nice to be in action again."

"Just try not to lose another body part, brod-briinah," the dovah said, then turned his attention to Yssha. "Where to, thuri?"

"Castle Volkihar, please. We wish to show Serana's mother that Serana is fully recovered."

* * *

Odahviing landed on the causeway between the landing and the gatehouse. When his riders dismounted, he looked quizzically at Serana. "Are you planning to wear that sword inside?"

Serana gave him a blank look, then flushed. "You have a good point, brod-zeymah. Mother probably wouldn't appreciate having Dawnbreaker in her home. Would you mind taking care of it for me? If it wouldn't hamper you too much, of course."

"Certainly. Fasten your sword-belt around the first large spike on my back. I will take care of it for you."

When that was done, he left, and they headed up to the gatehouse. When they got there, the guard on duty saluted. "Welcome, Stormcrown. Please come in, you and your companions. I'll have Lady Valerica notified you're here."

"Thank you." Yssha and her team followed him inside, then down to the main floor where she'd first met Lord Harkon. He left to get Lady Valerica, and Serana chuckled.

"Quite a change from the first times we were here together," she commented. "I told you Mother would clean the place up."

"Indeed, and she has done an excellent job. Even most of the damage from the last battle with Harkon's clan has been repaired."

Valerica appeared then, and embraced her daughter. "Serana! It's wonderful to see you on your feet again! How do you feel?"

"Wonderful, thanks." She grinned. "And you? Been up to anything interesting lately?"

"Always, darling. The garden is still pathetic, compared to what it was, but at least it's clean and weed-free; I spend an hour or so a night out there. And I'm importing alchemy ingredients from the rest of the Empire, experimenting with new formulations." She turned to Yssha. "Would you like a copy of my notes? One of my thralls has respectable handwriting."

"I would like that very much - thank you." Yssha smiled. "I fear my own research has been limited, so I have nothing new alchemical to share."

"You've been busy with other things," Valerica said. "I understand." She turned to a nearby thrall and ordered him to bring refreshments. "What would you care for?"

"Tisane for Nevan and me," Yssha replied. Marcurio opted for mead, Serana for a sweet wine.

"Mead for me as well," Valerica said. She took a place at the dining table, and the rest joined her. Once their refreshments arrived, she turned to Serana. "I've been doing some serious thinking about what we discussed at Ysmir's place." She hesitated. "It's been ... difficult."

"Ah ... would you prefer to discuss this in private?" Yssha asked delicately.

"No, but thank you for the courtesy," Valerica replied. "You're Serana's other family, so you have a right to know. We were talking about her decision to return to humanity, and whether or not I should do the same."

"Have you come to a decision?" Serana asked quietly.

Rather than responding immediately, Valerica studied Yssha briefly. "My decision has hung in the balance since her injury and our first discussion, and I'm still not positive. On the one hand, I like my Vampire Lord powers, and I very much want to see my garden thriving again. I've also worshiped Molag Bal for thousands of years, and that is something it will be difficult to give up."

Yssha didn't say what she was thinking; it wasn't her place to interfere in Valerica's decision. But it was hard not to point out that Bal had violated her, her husband, and her daughter to make them into pure-blooded vampires, in a ceremony that, according to Serana, few survived.

Then Valerica continued. "On the other hand, as Serana pointed out, the 'immortality' he gives us isn't the real thing, as many vampire deaths have proven. I could live another several thousand years, or I could be killed in the next hour, in which case I would end up in Coldharbour with Harkon. That is not an outcome I particularly care for, as you might imagine."

Yssha nodded.

"And accomplished mages can live well past their race's normal lifespan." At this point, Valerica was clearly thinking aloud, rehearsing things she'd argued to herself - something Yssha understood, because she did that often enough herself; it could clarify things better than simply thinking them. "If I return to humanity, I could still see my garden thriving again. In death, I would go to Sovngarde, which is better than Coldharbour, even if Serana goes elsewhere. I would have to choose a different deity to worship, but some of the Nine attract my interest."

"You would be welcome in Stormhaven," Yssha said cautiously. "You are Serana's mother and Nevan's mother-in-law, so I would welcome you happily."

"Yes ... Serana said you had a realm in Aetherius, and that is definitely tempting. Which makes the decision even closer. But tell me about the massacre at the Markarth Orphanage."

Yssha sighed, bowing her head "It is still painful, I am afraid. Molag Bal's champion, a man named Honmund, slaughtered all the children, their caretaker, and the Legion guards on duty with Bal's re-made mace. He confessed and wished to atone for his sins, so Nevan sent him to a special realm of Aetherius where that can be done."

"Would I have to go there?"

Yssha shrugged. "Not to enter Stormhaven; I am too flawed myself to require that. For some other realms, perhaps you might."

Valerica sighed, then smiled. "In that case, my decision is simplified. I'll join my daughter in becoming human again."

"Good!" Serana exclaimed, reaching into her belt pouch and handing her mother a filled black soul gem. "You'll need this; Falion will use it to retrieve your own soul from Oblivion."

Valerica accepted it with a smile. "You were that confident of my decision?"

"Confident? Say cautiously optimistic and very hopeful, instead." Serana returned the smile. "I've been carrying that ever since our discussion. I'm pretty sure you have some of your own, but ... well, you know."

"I think so ... and I appreciate it, darling." She grimaced. "I hope I don't lose my thralls over this, though. They've worked out better than I expected, and I've actually gotten to like the ones I currently have. I rarely have to compel them any more, and when I do, it's minimal."

Marcurio grinned. "Then it sounds like they're serving you willingly as it is, more servants than thralls. But you might want to start paying them if you want to keep them."

"Is that so? It's been millennia since I had servants instead of thralls, and I think they only got room, board, and two sets of clothing. Oh, and a half-day off every week. Occasional gifts, as rewards for unusual, or unusually good, service."

Marcurio laughed. "Things have changed quite a bit, then. These days they get paid - how much depends on whether you provide what you said, and how valuable the person's services are. And they'll expect a full day off a week."

Valerica frowned. "How does that work? Some things can't simply be let go for a day."

Nevan chuckled at that. "Actually, almost all work can ... back in the Empire I came from, a few religious groups were prohibited from any work on their holy days. And some had very strict rules on what comprised 'work', too. For individuals, that required pre-planning; for something like the military, it just meant a bit of skill in scheduling who did what when."

"So you will need a steward to run the details of your household," Yssha added. "And a cook, if you do not already have one for your thralls. Also, as a noble, you should have a housecarl."

"This is beginning to look complicated," Valerica said, then grinned. "At least I took care of one of a noble's duties several thousand years ago. I have an heir, who is married and - " she broke off and looked at Serana - "will be expected to provide an heir of her own, in a reasonable time."

Serana snickered. "I quit using the anti-fertility potions as soon as the war ended, so when it happens is up to Mara and Dibella, Mother ... but Nev and I are certainly giving them plenty of opportunity to act."

Valerica nodded, chuckling. "That's hardly surprising, darling. That's always been one of your favorite activities. No offense, I hope, Lord Nevan."

"Not at all," the Sandeman replied. "She'd already told me, and for a warrior's-woman, it's expected. But I'm not a noble."

Valerica turned to Marcurio, who seemed to be the expert. "Has that changed as well? Are those who marry a noble no longer considered nobility themselves?"

"No change, but he probably didn't make the connection with himself and Serana." Marcurio grinned at his dark-skinned blond friend. "You've been Lord Nevan since you married her." He grimaced at a sudden realization. "Divines. I suppose I've been Majesty, or at least Highness, since the Greybeards acknowledged Yssha as Stormcrown. Though if anyone uses it to me, I'd probably either deck them or leave. I've made it plain enough I hate being called 'Lord', though, so I doubt anyone would dare."

Yssha decided to haul the conversation back to something less touchy. "Valerica ... will you want assistance gathering your staff, do you think?"

"It would probably be a good idea," Valerica agreed. "I'll see if a dragon will carry me to Morthal tomorrow, then go through whatever ritual is required. Any advice you can provide will be welcome, after that."

* * *

Valerica's return to Castle Volkihar was ... different. She flew in on a dragon, feeling both bereft of her powers and oddly free, to find her thralls waiting for her on the causeway. She dismounted and approached them, feeling ... yes, vulnerable.

There was a stranger there in front, though, a pleasant-looking Nord woman, who approached with a smile. "Lady Valerica Volkihar? I'm Lydia, Yssha's steward at Skyhold. She says you'd like a bit of help getting set up?"

"I would, Steward Lydia. It seems I am several thousand years out of date on how things are done, and how servants are treated, so I would appreciate any assistance you could give me."

"I would be happy to, my Lady. While you were gone, I took the liberty of interviewing your current staff - I hope that was acceptable - ?"

"Appreciated, yes." Valerica led the way inside, pleased to find a table set up for a conference, with glasses and bottles of wine. She seated herself at the head of the table, Lydia sitting at her right, and a thrall named Bjarne at her left. "What did you find?"

"First, and possibly most important, Bjarne led the larger of the two bandit gangs you enthralled. He's quite good at managing both people and finances, and seems grateful to have been enthralled rather than killed, so your Ladyship might want to give him serious consideration as your Steward. Unfortunately, I found no one I could recommend as a housecarl - it seems bandits generally lack the loyalty required. I am sorry."

"I'll find someone, I'm sure." Valerica turned to Bjarne. "Is your gratitude strong enough for you to take that position?"

"I'm alive when you could've shown the Jarl my head to claim the bounty ... so yes, my Lady, I am. And I fully expect you to check my books until I prove myself to you."

Valerica chuckled. "Oh, I will, and I have a great deal of experience at uncovering deception. But yes, I name you Steward of Castle Volkihar." She returned her attention to Lydia. "What of the lesser positions?"

"Your cook is ... satisfactory for the simple things like stews and the occasional roast, but if you were accustomed to noble's food - assuming there was a difference when you were eating, earlier - you might want Steward Bjarne to find you a chef, and let your current cook feed the staff, and fill in for the chef on his day off. For the rest ... " Lydia shrugged. "They are adequate as cleaning staff, and if you construct a stable, caring for your animals. Otherwise, Bjarne is as qualified as I am to advise you."

"Then you've given me an excellent start, and I thank you. Would you like to remain for supper, and perhaps overnight?"

"Thanks, my Lady, but I'd rather return to my husband and child, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Shall I have Bjarne hoist a dragon-flag?"

"Please - I'll wait outside."


	22. Ghostblade

.

Chapter 22 - Ghostblade

"So, what're we going after?" Serana asked at their evening planning conference.

"Two primary objectives before I get too large for my armor," Yssha replied with a grin. "Eliminate the last Dragon Priests, then see about reforging the Gauldur Amulet, now that we have only one more piece to retrieve. I have a feeling that the reforging will be the most difficult, so normally I would say to go for it first, but ... I do not know about you three, but while I have trained back to fighting condition, I have been in no actual combat since before my capture. So I personally would prefer to start with the Dragon Priests, difficult as those can be. Then the third amulet fragment, and finally the reforging."

"Same here," Marcurio said with a grin. "A couple of bandit gangs and a giant while you were gone, but with so many fighters here, I didn't see much combat myself. Mostly my experience has been sparring with Ahkrinbo's riders."

"We're in no better shape," Nevan said wryly. "One giant down in Blackreach, but otherwise just sparring. So I agree, we should start with the simple stuff."

"Hmm." Serana frowned. "Then maybe we should start off with something even simpler, just to get back in practice working together before we hit a Dragon Priest."

Yssha didn't particularly like that suggestion, but she did have to admit it had considerable merit. "A couple of bounty hunts? Or perhaps Lady Meridia has a suggestion, so we can get that practice against the sort of undead we are likely to encounter going against the Dragon Priests."

"A most excellent idea," a voice said from a glowing ball that appeared in apparent response to Yssha's words. "There is a long-lost barrow at Ansilvund, which is currently home to a necromancer become Vampire Lord, and a large number of draugr. So you can practice against both types of undead."

Serana bowed. "That sounds ideal, Lady Meridia. Thank you."

"It is you who will have my thanks for freeing them, my champion - you and those with you." The glowing orb's attention went to Yssha. "You should not discourage worship, Stormcrown. I foresee you needing the strength it gives you, that you may aid others as you wish."

Yssha groaned inwardly, but bowed. "Very well, Lady ... I will accept your advice, and no longer discourage it." She still wouldn't encourage it, though ... and she'd remind Talos of his promise to divert anything she didn't actually need.

There was a musical laugh from the orb. "Good enough." Then it vanished.

"Taking advice from a Daedric Prince?" Marcurio asked, one eyebrow raised.

"When it parallels what Bormah and Talos tell me, for all practical purposes? Yes, I see no harm acknowledging that I will follow it." She shook herself briefly. "So ... we leave for Ansilvund tomorrow after breakfast, unless I hear objections."

There were none, so she and Marcurio rose. "In the morning, then."

* * *

It was both odd and very pleasant to be meeting Odahviing with her original team again, Yssha thought, and she smiled when he gape-grinned at seeing them. "Nevan, Serana - my other clan-sibs ride me into battle again? It is good."

Serana smiled. "We think so, too, brod-zeymah. We've enjoyed our work down in Blackreach, and I owe my new leg to it, but ... we've also missed our adventuring out in the open air of Nirn. We're going to Ansilvund to refresh our team combat techniques."

"It is well." Odahviing crouched so they could mount, then leaped into the air. Not long afterward, he was landing at what looked more like a mine entrance than a typical Nordic ruin, and crouched again so the team could dismount.

As soon as they did, he left and they entered Ansilvund, to find themselves in a large chamber with scaffolding that reminded Yssha of the Saarthal excavation, an impression strengthened by the tools laying around. She spotted a draugr that looked like it was guarding some dead frostbite spiders. It hadn't noticed them yet, so she silently unslung and readied her crossbow, then fired. It fell, fortunately not attracting any others.

After checking the chamber for small loot - they found a couple of potions, and a chest with a fair amount of coins and gems - they headed up a ramp, where they found another draugr patrolling. She didn't want to Shout unless she had to - better to remain undetected as long as they could - so she gestured for Serana to take it down with Dawnbreaker.

Unfortunately, that turned out to be one of the times that killing an undead with it set off a fiery explosion, and Yssha sighed. So much for trying to be stealthy! She re-slung her crossbow and drew her mace, and they continued through a short passageway into a chamber where two draugr were at the far wall mining, supervised by a mage who apparently hadn't heard Dawnbreaker, because he was grumbling about having to supervise the workers.

It was rare to encounter a foe with so little situational awareness, but maybe he was deaf? Still, this was no time for speculation; just take advantage of their good fortune. She took care of the mage while the others sent spells at the draugr.

They went through a winding tunnel, avoiding a tripwire, until it opened into a chamber with a couple of already-dead draugr. Abruptly, the ground shook and a woman's voice spoke. "I am Lu'ah Al-Skaven. Who are you to disrupt my work? Begone, or I will add you to my army of the dead!"

There was another mage here, and two "living" draugr. With no hope of stealth any more, Yssha Shouted. "Yol ... Toor SHUL!"

All three vanished in a gout of dragonfire, and Nevan turned to stare at her. "Uh ... thuri, I don't remember your Fire Breath being _that_ strong."

Yssha sighed. "Because it was not. For some reason I do not understand, the power of my Thu'um and my magica reserves have both grown considerably since the Thalmor took me. The Thu'um improvement could be because I spent most of six weeks in dragon memories, so perhaps my understanding of the language has deepened enough to explain it. That would not explain the magica reserves, however."

Nevan and Serana exchanged looks, and she shook her head briefly. Yssha's ears flicked a bit in puzzlement, but this was no time for an extended conversation. Still ... "A single word now is as powerful as a full Shout was before. But I do not trust it to remain so forever."

Nevan looked like he wanted to ask more, but wouldn't, at least just yet, and she agreed. Which was just as well, because three vampire necromancers came up from a tunnel descending to the south, their spells and wards ready.

Marcurio and Nevan sent lightning at them - Yshha was amused to find Nevan seemed to be favoring lightning now, as Marcurio did, rather than flames - and Serana targeted them with her usual ice spears.

They continued through the passage the mages had come from, and Yssha frowned as they entered a catacomb full of resting draugr. Sure enough, the voice spoke again. "Rise from your graves to defeat these worms."

And the draugr obeyed. Yssha grinned as she began wielding her mace. She saw the light from Dawnbreaker off to her left, and wondered if it would do its exploding trick now, when that would be really useful, but none of them would count on it. When she got too many opponents in front of her, she Shouted, "Yol", and most went up in flames, but for the most part, she preferred mace-work.

Until Marcurio got thrown past her by a Draugr Overlord using Fus on him. That angered her, and she blasted it with Fire Breath, allowing them to continue once Marcurio made it to his feet and caught his breath.

Searching the room, they found Lu-ah's journal, which made things a lot clearer.

"Twenty-five years I have grieved for my husband, and sought revenge against the Empire for his death. I have researched the magicks to return his spirit to a body and something about the story of Fjori and Holgeir has drawn me here...

"Holgeir would make the perfect vessel to bring my Saeel back to life.

"I have managed to raise the dead here and use them as laborers to clear the way to the main burial hall. Something about the methods used by the ancient Nords has kept them incredibly well preserved. Would that these Stormcloaks had half their sense. We could have used them to push the elves right off the continent and formed a new state to combat the empire.

"And now, when I am so close, a war breaks out. The sleeping bear of Skyrim, who would not come to aid us in Hammerfell, awakens now that the Empire has abandoned them as well. They think they know suffering at the hands of the Empire? They know nothing. I would see both the Empire and these sons of Skyrim into Oblivion myself."

"And recruited necromancers and vampires to help her," Serana said in disgust. "That reviving the dead thing didn't work when I was alive the first time, and I very much doubt it worked in the millennia I was locked away, either. But idiots keep trying."

"It never did," Marcurio said. "With only two exceptions that I know of -other than dragons, of course - dead is dead, and the only undeath that's reversible is a vampire's."

"Well, we need to keep going, of course," Nevan said, bringing them back to the present. "There's a pillar puzzle and another copy of that book we found at the entrance. And it looks like carved clues over there, partly hidden by rocks and weeds."

Yssha chuckled, grabbing the book and re-reading it. "I love the way the Nords leave clues obvious to anyone much brighter than a draugr or skeever. It looks like it is Eagle, Snake, Whale, Snake."

Nevan pushed the pillars to those positions, and a gate to the south opened. They crossed a footbridge, avoiding a pressure plate, and entered a tunnel with more easily-avoided pressure plates. Yssha picked a locked door at the end of the tunnel, to reveal a shallow niche with a locked chest and a lever. She opened the chest first, then activated the lever. Nothing noticeably happened, so possibly it was supposed to deactivate traps they hadn't activated in the first place.

They continued through another tunnel to a large chamber with both active draugr and a number of sarcophagi. Yssha hefted her mace and waded in, while Serana wielded Dawnbreaker and Marcurio and Nevan used lightning bolts. As the sarcophagi burst open, Serana connected with one of the draugr, and Dawnbreaker did its fiery explosion, and what draugr weren't killed fled deeper into the dungeon.

That left the team free to search the room, avoiding a number of traps to get a key and loot a couple of chests, one locked, one open.

The next tunnel was clearly where the escaped draugr had fled to, milling around and disorganized, so Yssha had the others stay back while she used Fire Breath on them. The team continued, encountering a couple more draugr and a single vampire, who yelled, "Traitor!" at Serana before she hit him with an ice spear.

As they passed a pair of thrones, Lu-ah spoke again. "I could not raise him, but I will raise an army to avenge his defilement!"

It wasn't an army, but it was almost as bad, from Yssha's point of view - a pair of Dragon Priest-level draugr. Not being actual Dragon Priests, they didn't teleport, which was a mercy, but they were certainly tough. On the other hand, so was the team, so Yssha left the draugr to them while she went against Lu-ah.

The woman was more than a necromancer; she was also skilled in several Destruction spells, and for a few seconds, Yssha had to protect herself with a ward spell until she could Shout, "Mul ... Qah DIIV!" As the glow of Dragon Aspect appeared around her, she wondered how its Shout-enhancing effects would work - or not work - with her already-more-powerful Shouts.

She didn't want to harm anything useful that Lu-ah might be carrying, so she decided quickly against Fire Breath. Ice Form could be stopped by the ward Lu-Ah would undoubtedly cast, so that left Soul Tear. It wasn't one she particularly liked ... so maybe try one she'd designed herself, to finish up the Fire/Frost/Lightning triad.

As soon as she thought of that, she implemented it. "Qo ... Nos BEL!"

It worked exactly as she'd hoped, lightning coming from her mouth and striking her foe, leaving Lu-ah a smoking corpse. It was unbecoming, she knew, but she couldn't help feeling a bit smug. All the Destruction spells had forms for each of the three energy types, but Shouts hadn't ... or at least she'd never found one. It hadn't seemed right for there not to be, as useful as Marcurio's lightning bolt spells were, and now there was.

Speaking of Marcurio, he and the other two had finished off the two draugr, and now two ghosts faced them, hands spread in a gesture of peace. Yssha joined her team, and bowed to the ghosts. "Fjori and Holgeir?"

They returned her bow, and Holgeir spoke. "Yes, Ysmir. We thank you and yours for freeing us from our slavery. We depart now for Sovngarde, but we leave you Ghostblade, as a token of our thanks."

Yssha smiled. "May you pass over the Whalebone Bridge into the Hall of Valor, to share your tale of love and sacrifice."

The two clasped hands and smiled silently, then floated upward through the rock.

Yssha picked up Ghostblade, which looked remarkably like the Drainheart swords she'd seen in Labyrinthian, but it didn't have the same feel of menace those did. "Would you like it, Nevan?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I like my enchanted dragonbone, thanks. Hang onto it for now; I'm sure you'll find someone it fits, in time."

"Very well. Then help me search this room, and we will depart."

They did so, finding another key that proved to unlock an entrance to the first part of the dungeon.

* * *

When they emerged onto the surface, Yssha felt a sense of ... freedom she hadn't noticed emerging from dungeons before. She called Odahviing, and when he landed, she grinned at him. "Unless it is simply one I have not yet encountered, I believe I may have created a new Shout."

Odahviing cocked his head. "And what is it?"

Without using the intent for a Shout, she said, "Qo nos bel."

"And it worked? Underground?" Odahviing was surprised. "We could never ... well. Get underground except by accident, of course. So yes, thuri, it is new. Our congratulations."

Yssha's eartips warmed as she blushed with pleasure. "Thank you!"

"Lightning Breath. And it never occurred to us." He gape-grinned at her. "How much else new will you bring us, kaaz-thuru?"

"How can I know? But I am hungry, so will you take us home?"

"Certainly. Mount, and we go."


	23. Audience Day

.

Chapter 23 - Audience Day

Mid-Second Seed, 5E 3

It was Fredas, so Yssha was alone and un-armored, though wearing leather trews and jacket, when she called Odahviing. Fredas was her check-up and audience day, and for once she was looking forward to the check-up for something other than the visit with Danica. She was getting close to the point, Danica'd said last week, that she might be able to tell Yssha something of the timing to expect by now.

On the way from the Whiterun gates up to the Temple of Kynareth, she stopped a few times to chat, and left orders with a couple of merchants to have things delivered to either Lakeview or Windstad Manors. Then she spent some time under the Gildergreen meditating and praying, mostly to Kynareth.

She also made a brief visit to the shrine of Talos for a prayer, rather surprised that Heimskr wasn't there. She asked one of the Whiterun guards about that, and he chuckled. "His iron throat wasn't quite as strong as he thought - he came down with laryngitis about an hour ago. Wouldn't bother me a bit if he takes a couple of weeks to recover."

Yssha couldn't help chuckling. "I should not be pleased about a priest being unable to preach ... but it does make the Cloud District more peaceful. Meditation was much easier without his shouting."

"If you're visiting Danica, you might want to let her know - she hasn't been out yet this morning."

"I shall," Yssha said. "And yes, I am here for my weekly checkup."

The guard sounded like he was smiling, though his helmet concealed his face. "You'll let whoever's on duty know the results, please? We're all praying for you."

"I appreciate that," Yssha said.

When she entered the Temple, she saw both Danica and Acolyte Jenssen working on a single patient. She went over to see if she could help, and when Danica saw her, her expression brightened. "Can you support me? He's beyond your skill, but I'm running low on magica."

"Of course." Yssha moved into position behind the healer, touching Danica's temples with her fingertips, letting Danica draw on her magica reserves, and trying to follow what the healer was doing. Something in the brain ... and no, she herself was nowhere near skilled enough to do such delicate work. So she remained passive, as she'd learned was necessary for such support, though passivity was difficult for her.

She didn't know how long it was before the drain on her magica tapered off and stopped, and Danica straightened. "Thank you, Ysmir. Praise Kynareth, your strength let me save his life, and perhaps his mobility."

"I am glad. Who is it?"

"Olfrid Battle-born. He had a brain-attack shortly after supper last night, and Idolaf carried him down here. Jenssen and I have been working on him as much as we could since then. I was afraid that he'd die despite our efforts, or at best, be paralyzed. But now neither will happen, and he may regain close to full function."

Yssha smiled. "That is good. And I have what may be good news for you, as well." She told her friend about Heimskr's laryngitis, and got a sigh of relief.

"Like you, I shouldn't be pleased at another's misfortune," Danica said, stretching. "But if you can give me a few minutes, I'd like to take advantage of it to meditate under the Gildergreen with no shouting to distract me."

"Certainly. I will sit with Olfrid while you are gone. We are friends, although not close."

* * *

In Danica's private quarters, Yssha endured the examination. To be honest, it was nowhere near as bad as the medical exams Nevan had described his people having - those sounded like nightmares. Here, it was just Danica's hands running over her, an inch or so from her body, and wasn't bad at all, in comparison.

"Well." Danica smiled in satisfaction. "You and the baby are both doing quite well, Ysmir. Surveying his progress, I think you may begin to show around the middle or end of next month, and give birth around the middle of Frostfall. You'll return here for the birth, of course."

Yssha shook her head. "I am going to have him at home, with Greats-grandmother Ysshaya as my midwife. It is a family tradition I would prefer not to break, but if you wish to be there, you would be welcome."

"Let your watch-dragon know when your water breaks, then. I'll ask one of ours for a ride." Danica grinned. "Far be it from me to break one of your family traditions!"

* * *

Not too long afterward, Yssha was in her palace at Helgen, changing from leathers into the loose-fitting, high-waisted gowns Taarie had designed for later in her pregnancy. She'd decided they were so comfortable, though, that any time she didn't feel she needed armor, she wore them, and had several suitable to hold court in. Today she chose one in midnight blue, with silver embroidery, then went outside to the Greater Mirmulnir Throne, and seated herself to receive petitioners. Lydia and Argis were with her, as was customary.

Lydia had briefed her while she changed clothes, so she knew there was nothing urgent needing her attention - if there had been, Lydia would have sent a dragon - so she wasn't really expecting much except perhaps people wanting to talk to her. That was an advantage of ruling such a tiny Keep; it had few problems, and most were solved by the individuals involved, or by Lydia or Hadvar. So her audiences were more making herself available to chat with her people, most of whom were also friends.

There was the occasional visitor, now that it was widely known she held audiences from mid-morning to shortly before twilight every Fredas, so it wasn't terribly surprising when a dragon landed and Jarl Kraldar dismounted, approaching her with a smile. "Good greetings, Jarl Ysmir! How're you doing?"

She returned his smile. "Very well, thank you. Since you come here during my audience time, what is it I can do for you?"

"First, extend my thanks to Lord Nevan and Lady Serana for the heating runes they introduced. Winterhold may still have the worst climate for humans and most mer in Skyrim, but now our buildings are warm and not smoky. Though most of us have kept firepits and maintain stores of firewood, as well!"

Yssha chuckled. "I will be happy to pass along your thanks, of course, but I cannot imagine you came here only for that."

"No - mostly I came to tell you about some of our plans for how to redevelop the city since the Great Reconstruction, and get your permission for a couple of the suggested projects."

"I would love to hear, yes, but why should you ask permission for projects in your own Keep?"

"Because it's all tied together," Kraldar said.

Yssha turned to Argis. "Would you please bring a chair and some wine for Jarl Kraldar? I would not keep him standing for what may be a longer than usual audience."

"Of course, my Jarl." Argis went inside, returning shortly carrying a glass of wine and followed by a servant with a chair.

When he was settled, Kraldar continued. "You know Winterhold isn't really suitable for agriculture or, really, much else except snow sports. I plan to revive those, and try to spread their popularity beyond my own hold. But there are other ways of attracting visitors, and you've already opened the Sightless Pit library and temple to selected ones, although we've improved access.

"So I want to build on that. We're already deeply embedded in Dovahkiin lore, between that and you having been Arch-Mage of the College, plus a large percentage of our current population being Odmer you Restored. On the new ground, we'd like to add a Dovahkiin museum, perhaps with some things you've used or found."

"I see no problem with that," Yssha said. "I certainly have items I will never use again and would gladly donate." She thought briefly, then grinned. "You might also wish to speak to Adrianne, the blacksmith in Whiterun. I doubt it, but there is a possibility she did not re-smelt the armor I used in the Battle of Whiterun. It is in terrible shape, however."

"I'll do that," Kraldar said with a smile, then sobered. "It's the other I really think you might refuse us."

Yssha sighed. "I believe I can guess, but go ahead."

"Yes, you probably can." Kraldar studied the small Khajit. "Those you Restored worship you, and have asked my permission to build a temple. I told them I couldn't do that unless I got your permission."

Yssha bowed her head briefly, moving her shoulders as if settling a weight, then straightened and nodded. "I already have one temple, and a priestess. I have also been instructed not to refuse worship, however much I dislike it, so you have my permission. And if any Odmer feel a call to my priesthood, it is not issued by me ... but they should travel to Solstheim, and speak to Qolaas, my high priestess." She sighed. "I would ask that the temple be kept quite modest, but I fear that would be fruitless."

"Probably so," Kraldar agreed. "My Odmer subjects seem fond of massive projects. And Winterhold has the stone to support those."

"Then might I suggest a second inn, as well? The Frozen Hearth is far too small for the influx you should probably anticipate."

"Already being planned, and the Hearth is expanding, as well. Plus there's going to be a lodge for skiers on that tall mountain between Fort Kastav and Stillborn Cave. It'll have slopes for everything from beginners to experts, and instructors. Magic-powered rides to take skiers to their preferred slopes, that sort of thing."

Yssha chuckled at his enthusiasm. "It seems you are planning to turn the rigors of your climate to your advantage, by attracting travelers to various inducements to visit."

"Precisely!" Kraldar grinned. "Zenithar encourages work and commerce, and all the Divines encourage us to make the best of what we're given. Ah, would you object if the temple includes shrines to the Nine as well as to you?"

"Certainly not," Yssha assured him. Were it up to me, it would be called a chapel, and would have altars to all the true Divines." She sighed. "I do miss the Cyrodiilic chapels, with their wonderful stained glass portraits above the individual altars, but I suppose the harsh weather precludes such a thing."

Kraldar smiled. "I saw one of those once, and it was certainly beautiful. I'd ... hmm." He muttered to himself briefly, then grinned. "Sure, why not? We certainly have enough mages now."

Yssha's ears twitched. "What do you mean?"

"Stained glass by itself wouldn't survive the kind of blizzards we can expect at least once a year, that's true - but stained glass protected by wards certainly could. And something that beautiful would certainly attract visitors who can't or don't want to travel as far as Cyrodiil ... thanks for the suggestion, Ysmir!"

"My pleasure, I assure you. It will be good to watch Winterhold grow and thrive as it once did."

"And besides the visitor attractions like the Great Restoration itself, the Sightless Pit, and the College. Mostly scholars to the latter two, I'd imagine. The museum too, if we document things well enough. The scholars won't be as profitable, but they'll still need to eat and stay somewhere. And buy things like paper, pencils, quills ... hmm, maybe a store specializing in clothes with warmth spells, for skiing and just basic exploring ... "

His voice trailed off, and Yssha couldn't help purring. Kraldar was turning out to be an excellent Jarl, which pleased her. "If I may comment on something you have not mentioned? And how is your wall coming along?"

"Huh?" Kraldar returned to the present. "The wall's coming along very nicely, though it's going to have to be expanded to include the temple and museum on our new land. But what else are you thinking about?"

"Your residence." She chuckle-purred. "If you have a walled city, you must have something more than a wooden longhouse. At least so it was explained to me, and your ground area is far larger than mine." She patted her abdomen. "Also, an heir."

Kraldar looked blank, then grinned. "I suppose I do, Stormcrown. But I already have an heir, my daughter Margret. She's married, and expecting my first grandchild. Unfortunately, her mother died shortly after she was born."

Yssha sighed. "That happens all too often. You have my condolences, Jarl Kraldar."

"And I thank you for them, Stormcrown Ysmir." Kraldar stood, smiling. "You've also given me several ideas, and some new work to do, so I ask permission to go home and get to it."

Yssha stood as well. "Of course. Please keep in touch, and let me know if there is anything I can do to assist you."


	24. Evil in Waiting

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Chapter 24 - Evil in Waiting

Over the next couple of weeks, while Andreius and his party were sailing from Solstheim to Dawnstar, then going to Solitude and preparing to leave for High Rock, Yssha and her team concentrated on taking care of the remaining dragon priests. Time permitting, she wanted to retrieve the last fragment of the Gauldur Amulet and reforge that as well before her armor grew too snug. Granted, she could use mage armor without worrying about the fit, but her dragonscale didn't have to be renewed, and the enchantments on it were useful.

They had no reason to choose one of the priests over another, so they'd flipped a coin, and Hevnoraak at Valthume had gotten the first head. From the outside, it was a typical barrow, but with no hostiles, for a change. They climbed the wide stone steps and entered.

As soon as they walked into the vestibule, a ghost spoke to them. "Leave, strangers. Evil stirs in this place. I fear for the security of the very land if it should break free."

"We will remain," Yssha said calmly. "We are here to defeat a Dragon Priest who may be interred here." She introduced herself and her team.

"And I am Valdar," the ghost said. "We stand at the tomb of Hevnoraak, who has been dead for many generations. I fear, however, that his return may be at hand."

"Return?" Yssha frowned. "The Priests, unlike the dragons they served, were not immortal."

"Not as such, no, but Hevnoraak made arrangements of his own, and was strong enough to make them effective. I have been holding him here. While he regains strength, however, I am fading. By now I can barely contain his power, much less defeat him if he awakens. But with the help of living champions I may be able to succeed."

"That is our mission, as I said. Of course we will help."

"Excellent." Valdar's ghost smiled. "Three vessels in the tomb below hold the power to vanquish Hevnoraak. Before anything else, we need those. Bring them to me - but be careful, friends. They are guarded by Hevnoraak's minions. They will stop at nothing to see their master return." He moved to a throne deeper in the room, and sat there, unbothered by the skeleton it already held, undoubtedly his own.

Yssha bowed slightly. "Can you tell us any more? Such as why you are here?

Valdar nodded. "Hevnoraak planned his resurrection obsessively before dying. My duty in death, as it was in life, is to make sure he stays in this tomb for eternity."

zyssha frowned. "You make Hevnoraak sound worse than most Dragon Priests. Why would that be?"

"He had a way of enthralling people and built up a loyal army of followers," Valdar replied promptly. "Good men fell under his spell and were forever twisted. Made ... evil. After that, fear was enough to keep them in line. He could torture and humiliate them and they would not rebel. Even in death, they serve him still."

"I see. And these vessels you mentioned earlier are part of his plan?"

"Yes. Find all three vessels, then return to me. With these we can defeat him. Without them, we have no chance."

"We will see you later, then."

* * *

The first chamber was huge, with a sealed-shut sarcophagus in the middle, and a throne in the rear. Hevnoraak's throne room, probably, Yssha thought. There appeared to be nothing else in the room, so they headed into a passageway south, dodging a pressure plate. They had to fight a couple of strong draugr, then found the door that should lead them deeper in was sealed from the other side, and Yssha sighed.

Marcurio chuckled. "What would you expect, love, an _easy_ Dragon Priest lair? You know better than that!"

"Yes, we all do, and we clear them so subsequent adventurers will not all be slain."

"And for the loot," Serana added, grinning. "They do usually have some of the best loot."

"Plus an occasional Word Wall," Marcurio pointed out.

Yssha chuckle-purred. "True, it is not all altruistic. But still, we do protect those who cannot possibly handle Deathlords and worse. Bandits and vampires or necromancers who might move in later are at least within the capabilities of experienced adventurers."

They went on, then, fighting draugr and frostbite spiders. It was fairly routine, if any dungeon could be called that, and they had two of the vessels by the time they got to a room with three frostbite spiders. Those were easier than draugr, at least, guarding an iron claw on a pedestal in the middle of four statues. It was obviously a trap; the only question was what the statues would shoot at her when she grabbed the claw.

Or would, if she grabbed it physically. Instead, she cast Telekinesis, then they waited until the flames died down, and went past to the puzzle door. Dragon-Hawk-Wolf opened the door, and they were braced for the draugr, who promptly charged them. She softened them up with "Yol ... Toor SHUL!", then attacked with her mace as they burned. Lightning crackled from Marcurio and Nevan, while Serana stuck with her usual ice spears.

Once the draugr were down and they were done with any necessary healing, Yssha approached the Word Wall and absorbed Laas, the first word of Aura Whisper. That was nice; used with the Detect Life spell, it was possible to detect everything but undead, including Daedra and dwarven automatons. Then she picked up the third vessel, which opened the sealed door they'd encountered earlier, and returned to where Valdar was waiting.

"We have the vessels," she told him.

He smiled. "That's good. I worried that I had sent you to your death."

"And now that we have them, what is the next step?"

"In life, Hevnoraak drained his own blood from his body. His goal was to transfer his power back into himself after death, becoming a powerful lich. The vessels contain that very blood. Empty them and you remove any chance he has of regaining his former powers."

"That seems dangerous, but with a Dragon Priest, that is to be expected."

"More dangerous than you know. Left alone, however, he will awaken when he has grown too powerful to be stopped. This is the only way to be sure."

"Understood." She glanced at the rest, getting nods, "We are ready."

"Very well. Empty the vessels into the sconce near the throne, then sit in the throne. When you have done so, I will unbind Hevnoraak. He will awaken in a weakened state, but the lich is still to be reckoned with. Be prepared."

"We are," Yssha assured him. "We have been doing this for some time, and have worked out a very effective method." Which was true, especially now that her Shouts had gained power. She obeyed his instructions, and once she was seated, he resurrected the Dragon Priest.

"Fools!" Hevnoraak exclaimed. "You will not hold me here any longer, Valdar!"

"Kill him now, while we still can!" Valdar yelled.

Once she hit Hevnoraak with Fire Breath, the others went into action, with the usual results, though once she saw him start to teleport, she added Marked for Death.

When it was over, the four of them approached the ghost. "Thank you, heroes," Valdar said. "Now I may finally rest. Take Hevnoraak's iron mask. It may be of use to you, and serve as some reward for your feat here." He vanished.

"That's one down. Two to go," Nevan said. "Tomorrow, or the day after?"

"Day after, I think," Yssha replied. "This was a large dungeon, and I think a day's rest before another Dragon Priest would not be amiss."

That got general agreement, and they left Valthume.

* * *

Stopover in Dawnstar

Andreius and his party disembarked in Dawnstar, having decided to ride to Solitude as they'd originally intended, rather than sail, since they'd have to do something with the horses anyway. Ride them to Solitude, then replace them with a more heat-tolerant breed there or across the border in Hammerfell, they'd agreed.

They'd reached the Windpeak Inn and ordered a meal and drinks when they heard a dragon Shouting Odkiinbrii's name, and the reply, "Zu'u meyz, Suleykaar!"

"Huh?" Imiril slid off the bench and scrambled outside, followed by the others, to the largest open area nearby. Suleykaar was coming! His dragon ... or rather the one who'd claimed him and his family as under his particular protection, so maybe in dovah terms, he was Suleykaar's. Not that it mattered to Imiril!

He waited impatiently for the two dragons to join them. It seemed forever, and he'd have been pacing or otherwise showing his anxiety, if he hadn't been trained most of his life to conceal such emotions as unbecoming a royal. Eventually, though, they landed, and he approached the wine-colored one. Fully grown, Suleykaar was a bit larger than Fusmulgar, but a bit smaller than Odahviing ... and a lot bigger than Odkiinbrii.

He smiled, remembering their first meeting, when Suleykaar had claimed him and his family. "You're not going to knock me over again, I hope!"

The huge head tilted, as if studying him. "Certainly not. If I were to do so now, I might injure you, which I have no desire to do. Though I must admit, sheltering you under my wing is something I would happily do again."

"That part, I wouldn't mind either," Imiril admitted. "It wasn't particularly comfortable, on damp ground, but it was most reassuring. Like the way Dovahkiin said she felt the first time she sat in the Mirmulnir Throne."

Suleykaar nodded. "I know of the Mirmulnir Throne, and that he gave her his bones freely. Monahu told us that tale as an example of proper devotion to one's thur." He gape-grinned. "Even though he only accepted her as thur after she killed him. Which is most unusual, but she did prove her strength by killing both Alduin and Miraak before he swore to her."

Imiril chuckled. "I don't understand that part, but swearing to the strongest is hardly unusual for either mer or men. Probably not for the beastfolk ... er, Betmer ... either."

"As it should be," Suleykaar said. "There are many times the strongest is not the best, but - in what we have observed throughout the millennia, those ruled by the best usually succumb to those ruled by the strongest, in very short order. And usually fall to internal problems, rather than external force."

"That isn't very encouraging, you know," Imiril said. "I'd really like to be a good ruler, not just a tyrant like my father was."

"Oh, dovah are expert tyrants." Suleykaar grinned again. "Ancestral memory tells me how to make you one. But, of course, it tells us the reverse as well, simply by _being_ the reverse."

"Then I ask you to join my Council as an advisor ... pruzaak, I think Dovahkiin called it."

Suleykaar frowned. "I am ... very young for that, you know. I have no wisdom of my own, only what I have inherited."

"I understand that, and I'll understand if you refuse. But ... thousands of years of ancestral memory have got to be useful for a King with only about a quarter-century of training, and only a few days of actual rule."

Suleykaar rumbled a chuckle. "Onikaan, dii prinziip. Geh, zu'u fen kos hin pruzaak." He snorted. "Krosis ... I still do not think in Common very well. 'Wisdom, my protectee. Yes, I will be your advisor.' And I am ... honored? ... to be asked."

"Geh, that is the right word," Odkiinbrii assured him. "I have taken his kiim as my partner, so I will aid in both, while she lives. If you permit, of course; your claim has precedence."

Suleykaar looked at the frost dragon. "When were you created or hatched, if I may ask?"

"Oh, in the early days, in Akavir," Odkiinbrii replied with a shrug. "I went through the War, yes ... was killed by a Blade not long after they were established in Tamriel and Cyrodiil was settled. I was one of those resurrected by Dovahkiin, not Alduin."

Suleykaar turned to the mer he'd taken under his protection. "This would add much experience I lack, prinziipi. If you are willing, I would recommend making him another advisor."

"So be it," Imiril said with a smile. "Though both of you will have to wait to attend council meetings until I can have the Council Chamber modified considerably, to accommodate you."

Odkiinbrii nodded. "If you will have us provided with minutes of your meetings, we should still be able to assist until then. But now, you and your kiim should take at least a brief ride on Suleykaar, as a symbol."

"I have no problem with that." Imiril grinned, extending his hand to Arenim, and both of them mounted one of the youngest dragons on Nirn for his first flight with riders.


	25. Konahrik

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Chapter 25 - Konahrik

A few days later, Yssha and her team had collected the last two of the Skyrim Dragon Priest masks. According to what Qolaas had told her, the next step was to find Bromjunaar Sanctuary, which was somewhere in what was now called Labyrinthian.

She sighed as they dismounted from Odahviing in Labryrinthian's central courtyard. "I am not looking forward to finding this final mask. Getting the lesser ones was difficult enough."

"I don't know," Marcurio said. "Qolaas did say you'd get Konahrik by placing the eight Skyrim masks on a special pedestal in Bromjumaar Sanctuary, which you'd get into by using a tenth mask, a wooden one, in a particular spot in Bromjumaar itself."

"Which sounds entirely too simple, given the difficulty of obtaining any of the other masks, either in Skyrim or on Solstheim." Yssha sighed. "And she did say Konahrik's very existence was only a rumor in the priesthood, so it is possible - perhaps likely - it does not even exist. But that is not a chance I care to take. So we explore for this wooden mask, prepared for trouble all the way."

"Of course," Marcurio agreed with a grin. "Aren't we always? But I hope you're wrong, and Qolaas is right."

Yssha flicked her ears. "Honestly, so do I. This is one time I would very much like to be wrong, since it would mean not having to fight a teleporting dragon priest." She let out a low yowl. "I hate those."

Marcurio chuckled. "We know, and so do we. So let's look around for this wooden mask, starting here on the entry plaza."

The four of them were veterans of such searches, staying in pairs, but searching thoroughly no longer took as much time as it had at first, and it wasn't long before Nevan and Serana called the other two into a low dome of a building not far from where they'd landed.

Yssha and Marcurio joined them, to find a skeleton and a note beside a wooden mask. Nevan handed her the note, chuckling. "You won't believe this, thuri!"

"It seemed like an easy enough job. Groz and me done plenty like it before. Some chinless Breton wants bodyguards for a trip into the mountains. Fine. Easy clink for us.

"He goes on about this twice-forsaken mask of his the whole way, of course. Got a pretty good laugh when Groz snatched it and put it on her face - he threatened to fire us for that one. Not smart out here on your own, he realized that right fast and shut up about not paying.

"So we get here, he thumbs through some papers and mutters to himself - never you mind that me and Groz had to cut through ten stinking trolls just to get him here - and without so much as a warning, poof. He's put on that mask and vanished. Could have put my hands on his throat one moment, the next he's not so much as thin air.

"Well, after a while we didn't know what to do, and Groz picks her gear up to head home, when he poofs back, that mask in his hand. Begs us not to leave, says he needs us to wait, this is what he's paying us for. Then puts the mask back on his sorry face and he's gone again. I'd seen cloaks do invisibility before, but a few swings of my fist proved he wasn't pulling that one. Nothing there to hit.

"He shows up again, tells us he just needs more time. Has to figure out something about other masks, and vanishes again. That was yesterday, and I'm done with twiddling my thumbs and writing letters to myself. We're leaving come sunrise, and if he shows up again I promise Azura I'm putting this dagger through his chest to keep him in one place. We'll pull more loot off him dead than he could have paid alive. But not the mask. That cursed thing can stay and rot with him and the trolls right here."

And so it had, assuming the wooden mask on the floor was the one mentioned in the note. That seemed reasonable, so she picked it up. "Hold on to me, and we will see if this work s as the Black Books did. I would much prefer not to face a Dragon Priest without you."

When the three others were all touching her, Yssha put on the mask ... and found herself alone, in a small stone chamber with a pedestal holding nine blank "heads", clearly intended to hold masks. Otherwise, it was nothing but bare space, with no exits.

They had considered the possibility of her being without her team, but that didn't mean she'd have to fight alone, if it came to that. She had the Summon Person spell, the Call of Valor shout, the spell that would summon Arniel Gane, and others that would conjure atronachs. She much preferred to stick with material weapons when she could, though. Or she could probably retreat simply by taking off the mask.

Hmm. Test that first, before touching the pedestal. So she removed the wooden mask, and indeed, reappeared in the domed building. "Just testing," she assured her team. "It may be as well you could not accompany me; the Sanctuary is quite small. It is also doorless, so except for the mask pedestal, nothing but a stone cube." She grinned. "I will return, and see what happens when I put the masks on the pedestals."

With that, she put the mask back on, and reappeared in the Sanctuary. She removed her pack and removed a mask - Otar's, as it happened - and approached the pedestal. She hoped that either the masks didn't have to be placed in any particular order, or that there was some way of telling which one belonged where, because otherwise it could take a very long time ... hours, maybe.

She removed the mask again, to rejoin her team. "A question, for whoever can answer it. I have eight masks, and eight possible positions for each. I am assuming the ninth, central, position is for Konahrik, so ... if I must place each mask at random, how long would it take me? We may need additional supplies."

Nevan snorted. "Eight factorial? Unless you can find a clue or two, give it up. That's 40,320 possibilities. Months at best, and that's if you're meticulous about recording each combination you've tried, so you don't repeat."

Yssha winced. "I will check for clues, then. I doubt even Dragon Priests would have the patience to try so many combinations. I had thought perhaps a few hours ... but mathematics is not my strong point. Thank you, vahriin."

Back in the Sanctuary, she gave the mask heads very careful scrutiny. This had been built by Nords, so there should be _some_ sort of clue, especially since it was the most difficult puzzle she had encountered. Something like a Reveal Clue spell would be nice, but she wasn't sure such a thing was even possible. Ah, well.

After several minutes' inspection, she smiled to herself. The clues were far less obvious than the usual ones, but tiny scratches in the heads' "mouth" areas proved to be engraving in the dragon script instead, and at that point it became easy. As she placed the masks, she realized for the first time that six of the eight names meant things most people saw as at least mildly negative. The two exceptions were Morokei, or Glorious, and Otar, which wasn't a Dovahzul word.

As she mused, the central, and highest, "head" began to shimmer, and a tusked golden mask appeared. Konahrik, or Warlord ... despite the tusks, it was oddly attractive, as well as being the only one she hadn't had to fight its eponymous priest for, which made it unique in more ways than one.

But now that she had all the masks, from both Skyrim and Solstheim, what should she do with them? She'd have to think on that. Keeping them from being used was highly desirable, but she didn't simply want to leave them here, along with the ones from Solstheim; they were also an important part of history, and they should be both seen and studied. Still, leaving them here until she decided their ultimate destination wouldn't be a bad idea.

* * *

By the next morning, she'd decided. The masks weren't the only things in her collections that were either too valuable, too dangerous, or both, to be in any except the most secure locations. That meant a place only accessible by dragon, which in turn meant a trip to Skuldafn to discuss plans with Seridur. Although, she reminded herself, technically speaking, Skuldafn was part of Eastmarch, so a talk with Jarl Brunwulf was in order first.

When she passed on her plans, Marcurio shook his head. "I'd rather not go on that particular trip, love. It doesn't sound like anything you'd need me for, anyway, and despite my gratitude ... well, I'd rather not see Seridur any more than I absolutely have to."

Yssha nodded. "I do understand, beloved. Most of it will be discussing reconstruction and new construction, but I cannot promise it will not go beyond that."

Nevan grinned. "I'd like to beg off, too, if you don't mind. Not for Marcurio's reason, of course, but we've got some final tests on a couple of prototypes set for this morning down in Blackreach that Serana and I'd really like to be there for."

Yssha chuckle-purred. "Feel free, fahdonne. A courtesy visit to Jarl Brunwulf - something I really should have done earlier - and a construction discussion with Seridur are not things I need combat assistance with. But what kind of prototypes, may I ask?"

Nevan and Serana exchanged grins. "If you insist," Nevan replied, "but I'd rather you didn't. If one of 'em works, we'll show you when you get home. If none do, well ... it'd be pretty embarrassing, and we'll want another month or so to fix problems."

Yssha chuckled again. "Very well, I will not pry."

"Thanks, thuri." Nevan grinned.

* * *

Odahviing landed on the Windhelm causeway and Yssha dismounted, approaching the city gates. Very unlike her first time here, the guards opened the gates without her having to ask, and offered to send a messenger to the Palace of the Kings to alert the Jarl to her arrival. She agreed, but told them she would be delayed a bit in the Temple of Talos - which would give Brunwulf a bit of time to prepare.

And she truly enjoyed her time in the Temple. Even if they had nothing specific to commune about, she found his Temple presence both reassuring and refreshing, as she had even as a youngster. It was like ... like bathing in emotional sunshine. When she felt she'd given Brunwulf enough time, she left the Temple reluctantly, and went to the Palace of the Kings.

She strode past the deposed rulers and stewards in the Throne Room, who were a bit less hostile than when she, her team, and the Legion leaders had killed Ulfric and Galmar. Still not friendly, she thought, but then, that was unlikely ever to happen.

When she approached the throne, Brunwulf was sitting straighter than usual for a Jarl, which made her smile as she bowed.

He stood and returned the bow, then gestured to the throne. "If you would, Stormcrown?"

"I would prefer not, Jarl Brunwulf. I am here to ask a favor, not take over." She stepped aside, and he resumed the throne.

"What favor is that, then? I can almost guarantee I'll grant it, unless it's totally unreasonable."

"I ... " Yssha was hesitant. "I know what Skuldafn means to Eastmarch, but it is ... not in ruins, exactly, but not as it should be, either. And it is unreachable, except by dragon. I would like to restore it, and once my heir is old enough to take over the ground part of Skyhold, use it as my capital for the sky part." She paused. "I realize that is a great deal to ask, Jarl Brunwulf, but - "

Brunwulf chuckled. "You want to make an inaccessible part of Eastmarch your capital, Dovahkiin? And rebuild it?" He cuckled. "Granted, with my blessings. Add to Skuldafn's legends, and if you can make it visible from elsewhere in the Hold, I'd be in your debt."

"That last I cannot promise, but if it can be done, I will. I thank you for your generosity."

"My pleasure. Is there anything else I can offer you?"

"Thank you, but no. If you agreed, my plans were to go there and see what will be needed. On my first visit, I was too preoccupied with fighting to pay proper attention to the structure itself."

"I've seen it, but only from dragonback," Brunwulf said. "It looks pretty rough, and I think I saw a couple of draugr. They weren't moving, so perhaps they were among those you killed."

Yssha swore to herself. She'd forgotten, when she sent Seridur there, that she and Marcurio hadn't bothered killing anything that wasn't trying to stop them from getting to Sovngarde! "I must go," she said hastily. "Before anything else, I must finish clearing the draugr out. We knew we would not be leaving the way we went in, so we did not truly clear the ruins. I must do so before someone goes there not expecting trouble."

With that, she hurried out of the city and mounted Odahviing. "Skuldafn, please, quickly."


	26. Skuldafn Plans

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Chapter 26 - Skuldafn Plans

Odahviing didn't ask any questions, just leaped into the air, and almost immediately landed. Then he said, "Is something wrong, thuri?"

"I forgot about the draugr when I sent Seridur here. Could you get some Skyguard teams to help clear them out, while I check on him?"

"Of course. I will be back with them shortly." When he took off, Yssha went across the river into the main part of the ruins.

"Seridur?" she called. "Are you all right?"

"Over here, Ysmir!" His voice came from the right, the small southern tower. "Yeah, I'm fine." He emerged with a grin. "Would've been nice if you'd told me about the draugr, though."

"Unslaad krosis!" She ducked her head. "My most humble apologies. Normally I will make sure a dungeon is cleared before I leave, but here, I fear Marcurio and I were more concerned with getting to Sovngarde to battle Alduin, and we knew we would not be backtracking. I have sent for some Skyguard teams to help clear anything we missed in that quest."

"You're forgiven," Seridur said with a grin. "That tower's clear, and I've killed a few more elsewhere. I kind of enjoyed myself, actually. How've you been doing?"

"Well, thank you. And yourself?"

"Mostly exploring and making notes. I've had dragon ... uh, dovah ... help with finding food and other perishables - they seem to gather here, though I thought they were solitary ... people. Like monks."

Yssha chuckle-purred. "They are contradictory at times, yes. They tend to have private resting places and hunting ranges, but greatly enjoy tinvaak ... conversation."

"And stories, and talking about intimate relations. It's almost embarrassing, even for an ex-Thalmor who was a Justiciar's squad leader, and I've seen it all."

Yssha was kept from laughing at that only by Odahviing's arrival, with several other dragons and their teams. Franken dismounted from Dovgrahaak, grinning. "You left some behind for us, huh? My people don't usually get to fight draugr; they're underground, so the Legion usually gets them. Fire's best, right?"

"That is correct," Yssha agreed. "They are quite flammable. I do think we got most of the more powerful ones, and I know we got the only Dragon Priest, so your people should not have undue difficulty."

Franken sent his people out into the various parts of the temple complex, then asked, "Any particular reason for clearing this, Ysmir? I'm not trying to be nosy, just curious."

"When my heir is old enough to take over the ground part of Skyhold, I will move here, which Jarl Brunwulf has agreed to. I wish to begin clearing and reconstruction as soon as possible. Which it will not be if any workmen Supervisor Seridur hires have to fear draugr attacks."

"Seridur, huh?" Franken turned to the Altmer with a smile. "The one who stopped Ysmir's torture, geh? I thank you for that on behalf of the entire Skyguard - and many of us would personally thank you for the side effect, as well."

Seridur wouldn't have believed himself capable of it, but he flushed. "So you ... ah ... "

"Us, the Legion, or Tornulf's Terrors when she's in that mood, yeah. Or at least usually, we think; we don't pry."

Seridur turned to his Dragon Lady. "That ... doesn't bother you? The talk, I mean?"

Yssha shrugged. "It did at first, but Nerissa and Ungarion's flyers made it so common I soon got used to it. And Commander Franken is right; I very rarely go to non-fighters when I am in the mood for several encounters in a short time." She grinned. "You have been having tinvaak with dovah, so you should know we have few if any inhibitions."

He nodded. "Though they think vodov lovemaking is more amusing than arousing, so that was actually less embarrassing than the other."

"Back to business," Franken said. "How about a tour of the cleared areas so far? If we're going to be protecting the place, I'd like to see what we'll have to work with."

Seridur nodded. "And you'll have to tell me about any special arrangements I'll need to make for your teams." He turned to Yssha. "That goes for you, too, please. It's easier to plan for things from the beginning than to go back and re-do things."

"So my housecarl Rayya assured me when she was overseeing the construction of Lakeview Manor," Yssha replied. "I will try to do so wherever possible, but there will be some of what Nevan calls retro-fitting, as I definitely want indoor plumbing. That should go second on your priority list for my wants."

"What's first?" Seridur asked curiously.

"Security," Yssha replied without hesitation. "I plan on setting up a museum and study facilities to investigate things too powerful or too tempting to thieves to leave in a freely accessible location. I had originally planned otherwise, until I saw all the Dragon Priest masks together. Then there is the portal to Sovngarde, which must remain closed.

"So instead of opening the collapsed passageway to Mzulft, I want it sealed as tightly as possible. Then quarters for at least two dragon teams. After that, you can begin making the rest livable."

"Right." Seridur turned to Franken. "There are a couple of towers that might work for the two teams, and they're both clear. Want to see them? Or at least one; the layouts are close to identical."

"Please."

The southern tower was closest, so they went to it, and after a brief inspection, Franken grinned. "This'll do nicely, with a bit of clean-up and repairs, plus the addition of at least basic furnishings. It's plenty big enough for even a five-man team, and there are only a few of those. I'm not sure the roof is sturdy enough to support a dovah, but Divines know that's hardly a problem, given how many really great perches there are here."

"Naturally," Dovgrahaak rumbled. "This was the main Dragon Cult temple, to Alduin, so of course it has an abundance of perches. Those who perched atop the western tower, which has succumbed to the weather, could be seen from Windhelm."

"Oh?" Yssha's ears pricked forward. "That is promising, because Jarl Brunwulf wishes at least a part of Skuldafn to be visible from elsewhere in Eastmarch. Perhaps if that tower is rebuilt higher - ?"

Dovgrahaak snorted. "Let us do some sight-line checking first, Dovahkiin. It would be well indeed to allow this greatest of our fanes to be seen at a distance, and as more than the tip of a single tower."

"I agree, so please do." Yssha smiled. "It would be nice to have our creations appreciated once again. We should also clean up Bromjunaar, without devastating Labyrinthian, so trade caravans can again pass through safely."

The dovah looked surprised, but nodded. "Geh, thuri, it would. But like restoring Skuldafn, it would take much time and work."

Yssha shrugged at that, surprising herself. "Ful? Mu vojoor, ahrk Bormahu uth daar mu prinz ahrk aam."

Dovgrahaak reared back, then, slowly, nodded. "Geh. That phrases our original, and current, mission very well, thuri. Our father did indeed order us to protect and to serve. And our immortality gives us the time to carry out even the most time-consuming projects. So ... yes, thuri, it will be done. After Skuldafn."

"Pruzah." She turned to Seridur. "You have much work to do here, my friend. But I assure you, you will have all the assistance you need."

"Geh, especially after we make it known that we will look favorably on those who take on the hardships of Skuldafn to aid in its reconstruction." Dovgrahaak gape-grinned. "It is taking advantage of those not yet chosen to ride, ko vazah, [truly] but it gives them incentive, not so? And it will indeed give them an advantage, for proving their willingness to live up to our order from Bormahu."

Seridur chuckled. "Thanks. Um, as a low-ranker myself, they won't lose pay for it, I hope."

"Certainly not," Franken assured him. "And once family quarters are built, they'll have first refusal. Face it, who wouldn't want to live in Stormcrown's own capital?"

"Anyone who likes outdoor warmth," Yssha replied drily. "Heating runes will keep indoors comfortable, but weather in this area can be less than pleasant."

She turned to Seridur with a grin. "You are not a low-ranker any longer, Supervisor. As head of restoration for Skuldafn, with all the responsibility that entails, you will be paid accordingly, and I will pay the salaries of any consultants you may require. I might recommend my architect, Ragnar, when he is finished with the two places I currently have him working on."

"All right, but do you think he's up to something on this scale?" Seridur looked dubious. "Your Helgen palace is nice, but ... "

Yssha had to control herself not to Shout, since there was no such thing for extreme amusement, and she couldn't really laugh. "Test him for yourself," she finally managed to say. "It is hard to keep him restricted to things I am comfortable with. Give him free rein, and I would not be surprised to see him surpass either Skuldafn or Labyrinthian. Simply speak to him, when you have a chance."

"I'll do that, then." Seridur grinned. "Now - Commander Franken wanted a tour, and I'd like to get some initial guidance on what you may want where."

"Very well, and you can pass the information along to Ragnar, when you bring him here, if you decide you can work with him." Which she hoped would be the case; she was out of other projects for the ambitious architect.

Seridur led them into the cavernous entrance hall. "This would make a great throne room, though if you plan to bring the Mirmulnir Throne along, it could be difficult getting it in."

Yssha chuckle-purred. "No, since my vahriinne cannot enter. That will be in the back courtyard, near the portal to Sovngarde. This would make an excellent reception room for vodov visitors, however. Perhaps divide it into two, a public and a private, but you and Ragnar can decide that."

"I didn't get as far as the rear courtyard," Seridur said. "Too many draugr."

"I understand." Yssha cast Detect Dead, but saw nothing within the spell's range. "It appears the Skyguard have been here, and a way beyond."

"If you'd lead, then?" Seridur asked. "The next area looked, what little I saw of it, like a crypt."

"Because it is," Yssha said. "I have no idea what to put there, as I am reasonably sure Nords would not care to use something like that for any purpose."

"Let me get a look," Franken said. "You might be surprised, if they can be exorcised."

"I am sure that is possible," Yssha said. "The Dragon Priestess who exorcised Miraak's temple should be able to exorcise this one as well, though Miraak's was far smaller."

Franken nodded, with a grin. "Your Qolaas, you mean. Yeah, she should. And re-consecrate it for you, like she did that one."

Yssha groaned. "Thank you, no. One temple is more than enough." Though she'd promised Kraldar she'd allow a second ... "This will be a purely secular place, except for a chapel for the Nine. Which, given my zeymah, will include a Dovahkiin shrine."

"Good!" Franken exclaimed. "Skyguard would be unhappy without that - you formed us, after all, and Nords have great respect for tradition."

Yssha nodded acceptance. "I understand. But shall we continue?"

When the other two nodded, she led them onward, past another puzzle room, and into the second part of Skuldafn Temple. They ascended a grand staircase, then went up a spiral staircase and along some corridors, past a puzzle door, and into the Word Wall chamber, where she turned to Seridur.

"This, I think, is where the museum and study area should be, though it might need to be expanded, as large as it already is."

Seridur nodded. "Seems appropriate, if that's what I think it is, from what I heard on my travels. A Word Wall?"

Yssha nodded. "There was an unspoken 'but' there, I believe?"

Seridur chuckled. "Yeah, given the usual age of scholars, it's a pretty long walk from the entrance."

Yssha's ears twitched in amusement. "Not so far as you think, given that the, ah, 'back door' is off to our left." She led the way, out onto the expansive plaza where she'd first used Storm Call. Then she turned to Seridur. "This is where the Greater Mirmulnir Throne will be put, under a pavilion as it is now, though the pavilion may be smaller. The Lesser Mirmulnir Throne will remain where it is, for my descendants."

Seridur nodded. "As you say, Ysmir. Divines, but this place is magnificent! And the view might be even better from up those stairs."

"It is, but do not ascend. Excuse me." Yssha ran up the stairs to the platform above the portal to Sovngarde, took Nahkriin's staff out of its hole, and watched the portal close, breathing a sigh of relief.

Despite her orders, both Seridur and Franken had followed her. "Was that - ?" Franken demanded.

Yssha nodded. "The portal for a mortal to enter Sovngarde, yes. And yes, I would deny that access to any mortal other than those Shor or Akatosh permits."

"But why?" Franken demanded, sounding frustrated.

"Because it is ... how do I say this?" She shook her head in frustration. "The contrast between Mundus and Aetherius is simply too great. Life is a challenge, with both good and bad. So is the afterlife, but it is far more intense. In the afterlife, the bad is good, compared to the good in life ... it is impossible to describe, though I have experienced it repeatedly. It is ... not a contrast that I would wish on another, at least on one who must return."

"Umm." Franken nodded, slowly. "Then ... I think I'll try to be satisfied with what I have here and now."

Yssha smiled gently. "That would be wise. The contrast is ... bad enough that I fear some, perhaps many, would seek death afterward simply to return, and have it denied them for that reason."

Franken nodded. "Then we owe you even more thanks, Ysmir. You'll protect the Staff?"

"Of course. And if you will excuse me, I will do so now."


	27. Reforging the Amulet

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Chapter 27 - Reforging the Amulet

Yssha kept her word, getting Odahviing to take her to Labyrinthian and using the wooden mask to take her to Bromjunaar Sanctuary, where she left Nahkriin's Staff with the masks. Unlike them, she planned to leave it here permanently, to prevent any premature entry to Sovngarde not permitted by Shor or Akatosh. If either of them wanted, they could easily retrieve it for the one they wanted to admit.

* * *

When she got home, it was time for supper, so she went straight inside rather than stopping to chat, and found the rest already at the table. She took time to clean up a bit and change into house clothing, then joined them. "How was your day, love?" Marcurio asked.

"Productive, once I corrected a pair of mistakes," she said. "I checked in with Jarl Brunwulf and got official permission to make Skuldafn my capital after I retire from running the ground part of Skyhold, then remembered that we had not cleared Skuldafn before going to Sovngarde." She grimaced. "I hurried there and sent Odahviing for some Skyguard, while I ran to find if I had sent Seridur to his death."

Marcurio frowned. "You hadn't, I hope."

"No, thank the Nine ... and after that scare, things went smoothly enough. He, Commander Franken, and I made some preliminary plans for it, I recommended that Seridur collaborate with Ragnar, and I closed the portal to Sovngarde. You know why."

"Oh, Divines, yes!" Marcurio suppressed a shudder. "Having to come back to Mundus from Aetherius isn't something I'd wish on anyone. At least my next trip there will be permanent."

"Truly, beloved. Repeats only become a tiny bit more tolerable. But even though I will be able to visit, please do not make it any sooner that you must."

"Of course not." He grinned at her. "But not to change the subject or anything, I do believe Nevan and Serana have brought you a gift."

Yssha grinned at her human vahriin. "One of your mysterious prototype experiments?"

"Geh, thuri ... but it's a bit dark to try it out this evening. I can brief you on it now, though, and you can try it first thing tomorrow."

"All right, though for me, it is not that dark. What is it?"

"Just a moment, and I'll show you." Nevan left briefly, then returned with an odd-looking crossbow, and showed it to her. "It's the first semi-automatic crossbow. It works partly by mechanics and partly by magic." He put it down, and showed her what looked like a box with a slot on the top. "This is a magazine. It holds a dozen bolts, and you load it like so." He demonstrated, sliding the bolts into the slot, each pushing the earlier ones down until the top one locked into position slightly tip-up.

"That seems simple enough," Yssha said. "And that goes where?"

"Bottom of the forearm, just ahead of the trigger. That I'll show you tomorrow; I don't like having this kind of weapon loaded inside, when it's so easy to do quickly."

"We will stop for the evening, then, and continue after breakfast. I hope Sorine is doing well."

Nevan nodded. "Very well. She says she's having the time of her life, with all the Dwemer artifacts and the Sightless Pit library. The Odmer working with us are taking to the tech-plus-magic better than I would've believed, as well."

Yssha cocked her head. "That surprises me. I would have thought them more oriented toward pure magic, like their closest relatives, the Altmer."

"Even they have rudimentary tech, like smithing swords and armor - I don't think any of Taazokaan's races are magic-only, no tech."

Yssha chuckled. "Then you would be wrong. With one exception, dov have no technology, for the simple reason that only I among them have hands. Most of us must count on vodov for anything that cannot be done exclusively by magic."

"You got me there," Nevan admitted ruefully. "I guess because I associate them with things like the Word Walls and Labyrinthian, which definitely involve tech."

"He has not told me, but I believe that is because Bormah Akatosh intended from the beginning that dov and vodov complement each other. Dov have wings, vodov have hands ... although I lack the wings, of course, and do have hands."

Serana frowned. "Is it ... difficult, being not wholly one or the other? I started human, became Vampire Lord, and am human again, but I was only one at a time, even though I retained some human outlooks as a vampire."

Yssha shrugged. "I cannot say so. I did not truly realize my lack of wings until Odahviing flew me to Skuldafn the first time, but then he swore to me immediately after Alduin was defeated, so I am a classical example of the cooperation."

She thought for a moment, then frowned. "Though he and my other vahriinne have yet to get any advantage from vodov technology, that I am aware of. I must speak to him about that, tomorrow."

* * *

Yssha was carrying her new crossbow when she emerged from Lakeview the next morning, but she was more interested in talking to Odahviing, much as she wanted to try out her new "toy". When he landed, she approached. "A question, zeymah?"

"Of course, briinah. What is it?"

She recounted the discussion from the previous evening, then sighed. "So what can technology do for you, to repay what you do for vodov?"

That got loud snorts from both Odahviing and Ahkrinbo. "Technology?" Odahviing replied. "We have no need of technology, unless you count preserving the teyye of ours that vodov have recorded. We do not require shelter or clothing, including armor, you know. Our claws and Thu'um are our weapons. Jewelry might be nice, especially for the dovahinne, but the gems are too small and precious metals too rare to allow for many."

He shook his head. "No, thuru. You know we value mental things over physical, and the short lives of vodov seem to make them far more creative than we immortals. Our services are repaid in full, possibly more, in vodov creativity. This is something you will learn to appreciate as the centuries pass."

Yssha nodded slowly. "I ... believe I can understand that, though I am sure you are correct, that I will come to appreciate it more fully. Thank you - that makes me feel better."

Odahviing snorted softly, the equivalent of a chuckle. "That is good. Perhaps technology can make it possible to preserve vodov outdoor artwork for more than a fleeting few centuries. It would be nice not to see that statue of you near the Western Watchtower, for example, crumble in a few hundred years. It is not great art, but it does commemorate a very important event in our shared history."

Nevan looked thoughtful. "That ... may be possible," he said thoughtfully. "I don't know if it'll be possible to duplicate or imitate them here, but we have materials in my first home that can withstand conditions far harsher than Skyrim's, for millennia - at least according to computer modeling, since the coating I'm thinking about was only invented maybe fifty years ago, and the most recent actual observations were maybe five years before I got conjured here."

"We will hope, then, that you can replicate it. But I see thuru has a new weapon, and knowing her, she is anxious to try it."

Yssha chuckle-purred. "You know me too well, vahriini - yes, I do, and I am."

She went to the target butts, and let Nevan show her how to load the magazine into the crossbow. It was easy enough, and she raised the weapon to her shoulder when he handed it back. "Now what?"

"Pull the trigger about half-way to cock and load the first bolt."

She obeyed, and was astonished to watch the bowstring pulled back by a two-fingered lever, and the bolt emerge from the magazine into proper firing position.

"Now aim and fire, the same way you usually do."

She did so, and the bolt went exactly where she wanted it. "Nice!" she exclaimed.

"Now shift your aim point slightly between shots, and keep shooting. Don't pause between shots except to change aiming point."

Again she did as he said, and the next eleven bolts formed a circle around the first, in bare seconds. She let off a Shout of joy, holding the crossbow in the air. "GEH! This is wonderful! I want to try it in action!"

That got laughter from both dovah, and Ahkrinbo said, "Of course you do! Have you any objectives that would provide what you consider a proper test?"

"Geh, restoring the Gauldur Amulet." Yssha went to the target and retrieved her bolts, then reloaded the magazine and grinned at her team. "Let us armor up, fahdonne, and do so!"

* * *

When they entered Reachwater Rock, Yssha had her new crossbow out and was eagerly anticipating its combat test. Nevan had brought extra magazines, so she had one in the crossbow and two on her belt, for a total of 36 bolts. In a way, that seemed excessive - she'd never been able to use more than two, before enemies were at melee range - but as quickly as this crossbow shot, she hoped for better.

The cave's entrance was behind a waterfall, so they headed upstream, finding a chest with some gold and potions, then a skeleton with armor. Further on was a dead adventurer with minor loot, and a podium with an emerald dragon claw and a piece of parchment. Yssha read that aloud.

"An edict placed in honor of those who fell because of Gauldur's sons.

"Let this place be forgotten forever.

"Let it be struck from the rolls of history.

"Let it never be spoken of by man or mer.

"Let its very name be lost to the ages.

"Ye who enter here, know:

"This place was sealed at great price.

"Honor those who perished here.

"Turn back, and leave them to their rest."

Yssha shrugged and tucked the ancient edict into her pack, and they continued. Eventually, they came to the puzzle door the claw belonged to, and she set it to the palm symbols of Bear-Whale-Snake. To her surprise, there were three more doors that lowered as they approached, and a fourth that didn't, with symbols that didn't appear on the emerald claw.

"I wonder," Marcurio said. "Maybe this is where that ivory claw we found in Folgunthur goes?"

"Possibly, since it had no use there except to lower a bridge." Yssha rummaged through her pack and found it, then purred. "It seems you are correct, beloved. Hawk-Hawk-Dragon matches the door symbols." She set the rings to the proper positions, turned the key-claw, and entered when the door grated its way down.

That led to steps down, and a long corridor that opened onto a huge chamber with a set of stairs in the middle, and an altar with three small pedestals on top. There were also a number of coffins in the room, and Yssha sighed. "I was afraid it had been too easy this far. Ah well. I suppose the amulet fragments go on those small altar pedestals. Be ready as soon as I place the last one."

Not that she had to warn them by this time, of course; they were already preparing spells and weapons. She placed the amulet fragments, and sure enough, the door behind them closed and the ghosts of all three brothers appeared over their respective fragments, but on a balcony well above them.

Nevan said something in a language she didn't know, then repeated his comment in Common. "Not these guys again!"

Mikrul vanished and reappeared near the door, surrounded by draugr. Yssha took aim and fired three bolts at Mikrul in rapid succession while Nevan and Marcurio blasted the draugr with flames and lightning respectively.

When Mikrul fell, he reappeared on the balcony, dropping to one knee, and Sigdis took the field against them, with three spectral clones, unlike the two Andreius had told her about - but he'd also told them how to tell the real one from the fakes, so she fired at the non-glowing one, and was gratified to see him go down almost immediately.

That left them with Jyrik, and all of them remembered his tactics from Saarthal - but here, he didn't have the Eye of Magnus to draw power from, so he went down fairly quickly. Yssha swore to herself as all three brothers regouped at the altar, wondering if they'd have to fight all three at once this time.

Then she heard the all-too-familiar sound of a sarcophagus being opened from the inside, and prepared herself for one-on-one combat - but instead, there was a blinding flare of light as Sigdis let out a shout, and the brothers vanished. In their place was a fourth spectral figure, another flash of light ... and the reforged Gauldur Amulet.

Serana sighed. "So, mission accomplished. And with no injuries on our side, for a pleasant change."

Yssha chuckled. "True. So the usual search for loot, then we try to find our way out of here."


	28. Initial Planning

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Chapter 28 - Initial Planning

Early Second Seed, 5E 2

On her way into Whiterun for her weekly check-up with Danica, one of the gate guards told Yssha that High King Balgruuf would like to see her when she was done at the Temple. She assured him she would visit Dragonsreach as soon as she could, and thanked him for the message.

She and Danica chatted for a bit, then the priestess asked, "You're still feeling well? No morning sickness, or other problems?"

"Quite well, thank you," Yssha replied with a purr. "I have mentioned before that such is common for those descended from our revered ancestress Ysshaya, and apparently that is not changed simply because I am carrying a half-human kit. What concerns me is later in the pregnancy, and then the birth - human babies are larger than Khajit kittens, and I do not look forward to the terrible backaches and prolonged labor many human women have mentioned to me."

Danica chuckled. "Even though an inter-species pregnancy other than human-mer is unprecedented, so it may not apply, in those, the infant takes after the mother, with only a bit of the father showing. Are you familiar with the story of the Gray Prince?"

Yssha nodded. "Yes - Greats-Grandmother defeated him to become Arena Grand Champion. An Orsimer mother and Imperial vampire father."

"Exactly. And he looked almost pure orc." Danica chuckled. "Also answered the question of whether vampires could reproduce genetically ... anyway, if that applies to inter-species reproduction, your kit should be small enough for a normal Khajiit pregnancy and birth. Hmm."

"Geh?"

"You may be far enough along that I can tell if your son has a tail. I do know he's smaller than a human baby would be at this stage."

"Please do, then."

Danica smiled, putting her hands on Yssha's abdomen, and casting a spell. When she removed her hands, she was grinning. "A definite tail, so it seems you'll be carrying on your family tradition of an easy pregnancy and birth. And I can quit worrying about him not growing at the rate I'd expect from a human."

Yssha sighed in relief. "I am glad ... some of those stories made pregnancy and childbirth sound worse than facing a dragon before I had Dragonrend!"

This time, Danica laughed outright. "Oh, my dear Yssha! Just remember battles you've fought in, and the exaggerations and bragging you've heard afterward. Women are the same about pregnancy and childbirth as men are about battles. Certainly, there are difficult and even horrible ones at times, but those are outliers. From what I'm seeing, you'll have a fairly easy time of it."

Yssha smiled. "Thank you - that is good to know. But I shall have to warn Marcurio that our son will be born with fur, a tail, and pointy ear-stubs, then."

"Yes, I suppose you will." Danica smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have Temple things I need to see to."

"and High King Balgruuf wishes to speak to me, so there is no problem. Next Fredas?"

"Yes, same time. Blessings of the Nine, Ysmir."

"And on you."

* * *

When she entered Dragonsreach, she smiled at the guards who opened the doors for her, and got grins in return. "Good news from Danica?" one asked.

"Yes, thank you. I understand the High King wishes to speak to me?"

"Yeah ... hold on," the other said, opening the door. "Dovahkiin los het!" he shouted, then bowed her in with a smile.

Yssha entered, to find her path to the throne was clear, and Balgruuf was waiting in front of his throne, Commander Maro beside him.. Balgruuf smiled at her. "Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin."

"Drem yol lok, Lotjun Balgruuf," she replied, returning his smile. "You wished to speak to me - what is it?"

It was Maro who answered. "Preliminary discussions for an Imperial visit, hopefully some time in Mid-Year. At the moment, we're trying to figure a tentative schedule. Is that timing suitable for you, Stormcrown?"

"Priestess Danica says I may be starting to show my pregnancy by then, but if His Majesty does not feel that would disrupt the visit, the timing is fine with me. Sun's Height or Last Seed might be better if he plans to visit Winterhold or Windhelm, however."

"I understand he does, since he wants to see the Great Reconstruction personally. Since no plans have been firmly set yet, I'll pass along your recommendations."

"If His Majesty wishes to visit the Reach, it might be wise to station a full Legion in Markarth, rather than simply Legate Rikke's detachment of the Fourth. Rikke and her detachment are quite adequate for the city but ... " Yssha hesitated, frowning. "The Reach is still swarming with Forsworn, and His Majesty would be a prime target for them."

Maro nodded. "The Tenth and Eighteenth are in garrison right now. I'll recommend the Tenth be sent to the Reach immediately. What about elsewhere?"

Yssha thought for a moment. "Eastmarch could probably use more troops. The Stormcloaks who kept order under Ulfric, the ones who did not return to civilian life, became Skyguard and are now stationed throughout the Empire. Most were from Eastmarch."

"I see your point. That would be a good place for the Eighteenth, then." Maro smiled. "I'll add that to the recommendations. Thank you, Stormcrown."

Yssha frowned. "One more thing, Commander. Not a recommendation, but something to watch for." She growled softly. "I do not know if word got to you, but my teams and I, with Divine Talos' aid, have removed four of the Daedric artifacts from Mundus. Unfortunately, it seems that they have been recreated with mortal aid. So if you have been counting on them being gone, you can no longer do so."

"Damn!" Maro shook his head in disgust, then sighed. "Thanks for the warning. I'll dig out those contingency plans, then. Thanks."

* * *

Middle of Last Seed, 5E 2

Yssha dreamed. It wasn't like a normal dream, and even less like her dragon-memories - yet she remembered it as if it were something she'd experienced while awake. She mulled it over while she went through her morning routine and ate breakfast, deciding she needed help to interpret it. Her team, yes, definitely - Marcurio's historical knowledge might help, and Serana's memories of the Merethic Era.

Who else? Grams, yes. She always valued Grams' counsel, and Lokbiidaan would know where she was. Paarthurnax ... well, the dream hadn't seemed like a dragon thing, but if he couldn't help, he'd probably know who could. So when they went outside to meet Odahviing, she Called the blue dragon. "Lokbiidaan ahrk Grams wah Monahven, zu'u bolog." [Lokbiidan and Grams to Throat of the World, please.]

"Geh, Dovahkiin - mu bo." [Yes, Dovahkiin - we fly.]

Odahviing snorted a chuckle. "Which tells me, as well, both where we will be going, and that you wish counsel. May I listen and offer what aid I may?"

"Of course!" Yssha exclaimed. "I would expect it of you - I thought you knew that."

Odahviing nodded. "I had assumed so, but it is reassuring to hear it stated clearly. Mount, and we go."

XX

When everyone was settled, Paarthurnax gape-grinned. "It is good to see all of you again. Why, though, Dovahkiin?"

Yssha's ears twitched. "I had a very peculiar dream last night, wuth fahdon. [old friend] I am hoping this group can help me understand what it means. If anything, of course."

"Then tell us about it, love," Marcurio said gently. "I did think you were a bit restless last night, but then you settled back down."

Yssha sighed. "As I said, it was peculiar. Not that long, but unforgettable. It began with weapons, the four Daedric artifacts that were removed from Mundus by either Talos or Mara, and the construction of their replacements by ... it seemed like Wylandriah, guided by Hermaeus Mora and mantled by the original owners. Not that she can be accused on the basis of a dream, or even that remaking them was a crime.

"Then was a symbol or word in characters I did not recognize, but can draw, if anyone has the materials."

Paarthurnax chuckled. "Simply smooth a bit of snow and draw in that. Unless you need a great deal of detail."

"It should not require that." Yssha did as he said, then turned to the rest. "Does anyone understand this?"

"It's Daedric writing," Marcurio said. "Chim, whatever that means."

"The language is Ehlnofex," Serana added slowly. "CHIM. All capitals; they didn't have lower case. It has something to do with royalty, starlight, or high splendor." She shrugged. "That's all I know; sorry."

"Was there any more?" Marcurio asked.

"Nothing as concrete as what I have just told you," Yssha replied. "Merely a feeling that I should learn as much as I can about this CHIM. I received no clues about how to do so, however."

"The libraries," Nevan said. "Both at the College of Winterhold and Sightless Pit."

"There may be something at Arcane University or the White Gold Tower," Grams added. "I'll get my people to check there for you."

"Please do." Yssha sighed. "I hate this sort of mystery, you know. I am, at least by preference, a very straightforward person. I am also not accustomed to acting on nothing more substantial than dreams."

Marcurio chuckled. "Yes, you are, love. And I'd be reluctant to act on a dream myself, but maybe you can get a bit more guidance if you ask for it. I vaguely remember hearing about CHIM - something to do with Talos, I think - so maybe he'd give you a few pointers."

"I would rather not bother him, or any other Divine, until I have exhausted my own resources," Yssha said, turning to Paarthurnax. "Do you know anything of this, Zokwuth? [Eldest]

"Krosis, nid," the dovah replied regretfully. "Which, I think, means it has nothing to do with we winged ones, though it clearly does with you."

Yssha sighed. "Divines willing, my research will at least tell me what this CHIM is, and give me an idea why I dreamed about it. I believe I will start at the College. Nevan, Serana, would you ask for copies of anything on that subject from the Sightless Pit library next time you are there?"

"Of course." Nevan grinned. "Drop us off at the Pit on your way to the College, and we'll get started right away. Tell Urag hi for me, please."

"Certainly," Yssha assured him. She smiled at Paarthurnax. "Forgive my impatience, please, fahdoni, but I am most eager to find out what, if anything, this dream means."

"Forgiven, and I am curious myself."

"So am I," Grams said. "So I'll get back to Cyrodiil and put the University staff to work. I'll talk to the Moth Priests, too, in case the Elder Scrolls have anything to contribute."

Yssha smiled gratefully. "I had not thought of them, but that is possible - thank you."

With that, the meeting broke up, heading for their separate destinations. Yssha and Marcurio dropped Nevan and Serana at Sightless Pit, then continued on to the College of Winterhold. She saw foundations for two large buildings inside the expanded walls of the city as they flew over, to land in the College's courtyard.

She and Marcurio went up to the Arcaneum, approaching Urag's desk. She smiled at the Orc. "Nevan and Serana send their greetings, and I offer ours, as well."

"Welcome as usual, Dovahkiin." Urag scowled, then gave that up and grinned. "What challenge do you have for me this time?"

"Something called CHIM," Yssha replied. "I dreamed of it, but have no idea what it is, or why I would have such a dream."

"CHIM, huh?" Urag looked as puzzled as she felt. "You're getting pretty deep into mysticism and religion with that. All I know is that it was part of the Amulet of Kings, and it's some sort of knowledge that gives you incredible power, if you can learn it."

"Do you have anything that references it?"

"A few books, yes, but they're almost as bad as Septimus' _Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls_. Not something you can get through quickly, or absorb in a single reading." He paused. "This isn't something I'd offer anyone else, but if you'll give me a week, I think I can have copies made for you."

"I would appreciate that very much. Is there anything I may do for you in return?"

Urag laughed. "I'm still deeply in your debt, Ysmir. First for the Elder Scroll, then for the suggestion to have scribes record dovah memories ... Divines, I'm going to have to build an annex! They're incredibly willing to tell their stories, their memories are accurate to the exact word - we've done some cross-checking - and we're even getting illustrations and paintings of the Dragon Age. Of course, some of the artists aren't too happy to be corrected, but there are enough willing to, ah, 'take dictation' that I'm confident they're accurate."

Yssha smiled. "We are proud of what we ... supervised the creation of, yes. And during my captivity, I was shown most of our greater works. If you do not have paintings of Bromjunaar and Skuldafn in their glory, you should ... those were the two greatest."

"I do, of both. Several others, as well. It's ... well, for a librarian or a historian, the dovah are a gift from the Divines themselves."

Yssha chuckled. "Well, yes. Bormah Akatosh intended such cooperation from the beginning. Our wings and memories, combined with your hands and creativity. Unfortunately, Alduin ... forgive, I would prefer not to speak of that one's betrayal."

"Forgiven, of course. Not that you have anything to be forgiven for, Dovahkiin. You weren't alive during the Dragon Age, any more than I was."

"I ... " Yssha took a deep breath. "Yes, you are right. I have shared memories of that time, but I ... was not there, and have no responsibility for my fronne's actions."

Urag turned to Marcurio. "Perhaps she would be happier at home. I fear I'm disturbing her."

"I think you're right. Yes, I'll take her home and let her settle down." Marcurio nodded and gently led his wife out to where Odahviing waited to take them home.


	29. Kaazdovah

.

Chapter 29 - Kaazdovah

Middle of Last Seed, 5E 2

When they got home and were alone, Marcurio sat Yssha beside him on the couch and put his arm around her. "You haven't been yourself all day, love. That dream bothers you that badly?"

"Yes, and I do not understand why." Yssha snuggled up against him, her head on his shoulder. "It was not frightening, certainly, and I do not feel the dread I did when anticipating my final tempering. But despite that, I find it profoundly disturbing, and I cannot seem to shake that unease."

Marcurio leaned down to kiss her forehead, getting a lick on his nose in return. "The only thing I've been able to think of is that the four weapons have something to do with your desire to permanently remove the menace of those four Princes and maybe Hermaeus Mora's, as well."

"And somehow this mysterious CHIM is involved, perhaps even the key." Yssha sighed. "Perhaps my unease is partly frustration at not being able to do anything immediately. We must wait, and I am not good at that."

"No better than I am," Marcurio agreed. "Neither of us handles boredom well." He paused, thinking. "Grams didn't know any more about CHIM than we do, but it just occurred to me that Andreius might. He's the Nerevarine, after all, and he killed Dagoth Ur and the Tribunal gods."

Yssha purred, snuggling closer. "Even if he does not, it is an attempt to do something useful. And I would like to discuss shape-shifting with Uncle Sorcalin, as well."

"Oh ... that 'first Aedric shape-shifter' thing you mentioned right after you got back." Marcurio frowned. "You still think that's going to happen?"

Yssha shrugged. "As I said then, it was a guess as to why I would require mana without being a Divine. But Talos confirmed it, and that the mana would be needed because of the change of size. So it is only a matter of time and ... worship. There is no one I can talk to about shape-shifting into a dragon, and I get the strong impression Serana would prefer not to remember her Vampire Lord days - for which I can hardly blame her! - so that leaves Sorcalin."

"Then we find them tomorrow." Marcurio smiled. "Let me get you some wine, love?"

Yssha started to shake her head, then nodded. A single glass once in a while wouldn't get her drunk, and despite their discussion, the dream might make it difficult to get to sleep.

* * *

Yssha woke feeling much more optimistic, and wishing Marcurio didn't like to sleep in. He did, though, so she slipped out of bed and went through her morning routine, then out to join Rayya for tisane before the others woke. While they were chatting about nothing much, she got an idea, and smiled.

"What is it, my Thane?" Rayya asked.

"I have finally decided what to do with the pelts Nerissa took from me while I was a captive. Do you know where they are? And will you ever start using my name?"

"High-value storeroom, and probably not." Rayya grinned. "I am very well trained, my Thane. The only way I could do something so disrespectful is if I were ordered to do so."

Yssha stared at her for a full minute, wishing she was able to laugh. "So simple, and I never phrased it properly. Rayya, using my name is not disrespectful. Please do so."

"I will take that request as an order. But I reserve the right to be formal in public, if it is all right with you."

Yssha matched Rayya's grin. "Be my guest. But my true name in private, please."

"As you will, my Thane. Yssha."

"Good. Then I would like you to get one of the pelts, while I write a letter of authenticity to the curator of the new museum being built in Winterhold. Then I would like you to send both to ... hmm. Jarl Kraldar, in case a curator has not yet been appointed. The museum's foundation has been laid, but that is all I am certain of."

By the time that was accomplished, the rest were up and ready for breakfast. Once they were done, Nevan and Serana went back to their research for Yssha at Sightless Pit. That left only Marcurio and Yssha waiting when Odahviing landed. "Where to, thuri?" he asked.

"I do not yet know. One moment, while I find out." Andreius and his party were traveling on horseback, mostly, but they had two dragons flying air cover, so locating them was a simple matter of asking. "Odkiinbrii, fostaad hin?" she Called. [Odkiinbrii, where (are) you?]

The reply surprised her. "Windstad Manor, thuri." So Andreius and Sorcalin were taking her up on her offer to let them use her homes! That was gratifying.

"Saraan til; mu meyz." [Wait there; we come.]

"Geh, thuri."

Moments later, they were landing at what she thought of as her workshop, and she greeted the five men and mer, and two dovah, who were waiting. She and Marcurio chatted with Valdimar, Imiril, and Arenim, then excused themselves to talk with Andreius and Sorcalin on family business inside.

Once they were settled in the main hall, Andreius said, "What is it, youngster?"

"I had a very strange dream night before last. Can you tell me anything about something called CHIM?"

"CHIM?" Andreius was startled. "Where did you hear about that? The dream?"

"Yes." Yssha described the dream to him, then the conference at Monahven where Marcurio had read the Daedric letters she'd drawn in the snow. "So now I am trying to find out what is known about it. Nevan and Serana are researching at Sightless Pit, Urag is having anything he can find at the Arcaneum copied for me, and Grams is doing the same at the Arcane University and White Gold Tower."

Andreius chuckled. "And you thought I could give you more information, or at least more quickly." He shrugged. "I'm not sure how much help I can be. There's very little known about CHIM, and while Vivec did tell me a bit about it, I doubt it was actually as he described it to me. You might want to read his _Thirty-Six Lessons_ , though I'll warn you, they're tough going."

"I will; I am sure I will be getting at least one copy. But can you give me anything at all?"

"A bit, I suppose." Andreius was amused. Little Yssha hadn't lost any of her impatience, that was for sure. Of course, it had taken him over a century to do that, so perhaps she would, eventually.

"To start, CHIM is a ... state of mind. It has something to do with seeing the universe as a wheel from outside. The hub is Mundus. The empty spaces within it are the planes of Oblivion, the emptiness beyond it is the Void, and the rim holds the realms of Aetherius. The eight spokes connecting the rim to the hub are supposed to represent the Eight Divines that played a major part in Creation."

"Let me see if I understand this," Yssha said slowly. "So Mundus, the world as we know it, is at the center. Aetherius is what separates it from the Void, where Sithis rules. And Oblivion separates us from Aetherius, save for the support of the Divines."

"That's not exactly how I understand it, but I'm not at all sure any two people have the same understanding. Being able to see reality like you're not part of it gives you the chance to alter it, but how is beyond me. All I know is that Vivec used it to suspend a huge meteor to keep it from destroying his namesake city and, acording to legend, Talos used it to remove the jungles of Cyrodiil."

"So having CHIM makes you a Divine?"

Andreius frowned. "Not exactly. While CHIM makes you as powerful as a Divine, and maybe more so, it does not make you one. In fact, only mortals seem to be able to achieve it, and I've gotten the impression that it's not an intellectual achievement." He paused. "Though Lorkhan may have been an exception to the mortals-only 'rule' - he's the one who convinced the Divines to aid in the creation of Mundus. And if CHIM is confusing, Lorkhan is more so."

"I think I will pass on him for the present, then," Yssha said. "Especially since the stories I have heard say you destroyed his heart."

"Hmm. That's not necessarily so," Andreius said. "I used the Tools of Kagrenac on it, and it shrank to a point and vanished, but I can't claim I destroyed it. For all I know, it's still 'active' somewhere."

"This is all very confusing, you know," Yssha said, before she turned to her other uncle. "I hope you can be somewhat less vague."

"I'll try. What do you want to know?"

"What it is like to shift shapes?"

"It hurts like Oblivion the first few times and it will always continue to hurt, but you do get 'used' to it," Sorcalin replied promptly. "Even with the Ring of Hircine, which makes it a lot less painful. But face it, shifting rearranges bones and flesh, which is no fun, believe me. But why? You aren't a werewolf or Vampire Lord."

"True, I am not, and do not wish to be either. But I have reason to believe I will become the first Aedra shapeshifter, a were-dovah, when I gain enough mana. So I wish information."

Sorcalin flinched. "That massive a change? I can't even imagine. But from everything I know about dovah, you won't suffer from a werewolf or Vampire Lord's blood-lust, which was the worst part for me."

Yssha shook her head. "No, bloodlust will not be a problem.. A desire for combat might be, but we are not subject to bloodlust as such. Our greatest weakness is a lust for power, instead, though I pray daily that I not fall prey to it as Alduin did."

Both of her uncles laughed at that. "You, a lust for power?" Andreius asked when he quit laughing. "You don't lust for it, you avoid it as much as you can!"

"With a remarkable lack of success, I might add," Sorcalin put in, then chuckled. "Not that I can see how you could've refused any of it, except maybe one. Refusing any of your Thaneships would've insulted the Jarls who bestowed them. Dovahkiin you were born with. Your own Jarldom I suppose you could have refused, but as we heard it, that one was actually your idea." He and Andreius both grinned, and Andreius took over.

"Legate you earned in war, when promotions come fast. Mastery of the Thieves Guild you earned, but your Second does all the work."

"I would gladly give him the Mastership," Yssha said. "But he does not want it, and High King Balgruuf wishes me to remain Master as long as he reigns, so I will, out of friendship. I did hand over being Harbinger of the Companions and Arch-Mage of the College as soon as replacements could be found."

"Good points," Andreius conceded. "Stormcrown came when the Greybeards acknowledged you, Dovahthur and Dovahjud when the dovah named you with those, and ... huh, I think the rest of your titles are all honorary."

"May we get back to the subjects?" Yssha said, smiling. "So my studies of CHIM will probably be pointless?"

"Except for personal satisfaction, probably so," Andreius said. "If it were achievable by study, a whole lot more would have achieved it than actually have. As I think I said, it's a state of mind, a way of looking at the universe. Even the picture of Aurbis may not help much, since that's an attempt at intellectual description of something that maybe can only be experienced."

Sorcalin glanced at his partner. "Maybe something like one of those 'Oh, _that's_ it!' moments, you get when something that's been simmering under the surface of your mind suddenly becomes clear when you're doing something totally unrelated?"

"Like when you'd spent months working on that long-term paralysis spell, got the inspiration in the middle of a battle, and cast it on me instead of the necromancer I was fighting?" Andreius gave Sorcalin a withering look.

"Um, yes." Sorcalin had the grace to look abashed. "I was excited, and my aim was off. Will you ever let me live that down?"

"Maybe in a century or so," Andreius said with a chuckle.

Yssha sighed inwardly. So they'd given her all the help they could, and it wasn't much at all. Well, maybe one more thing. "Uncle Sorcalin, how does an ordinary were change? I know you have Hircine's Ring, but that is obviously not necessary."

"I only know about werewolves, not the other types, but our first changes are usually triggered by a full moon. For a more complete explanation, get hold of Imperial Scholar Lorgren Calidus' 'Interview with Faal Mungrohiik' - he was pretty thorough. But the quick and dirty answer is that once you make peace with your wolf, if you live long enough to manage that, all it takes is willing the change."

He paused, then grinned at her. "Considering you were born with your inner dragon, I very much doubt you'll have any problem getting acquainted or making peace, the way I did. So you can probably go right to the 'willing it' part. Want to give it a try?"

"Inside? This room is large, but hardly large enough for a dovah! Besides, I do not know if I have enough mana to support a change. Unlike magica, I cannot sense mana."

"Only one way to find out," Marcurio said. "Let's go back outside and give it a try."

"All right - I suppose I should know." Yssha went back outside, followed by the rest, to find the other three vodov nearby, and looking curious. She sighed. "I am going to try something. I have no way of knowing if it will work, or precisely what will happen if it does, so give me plenty of room." She turned to the three dovahhe, resting nearby. "The same for you, dii vahriinne, zu'u bolog." [my sworn, please.]

They nodded as one, and Odahviing replied for them. "Geh, thuri."

Yssha moved perhaps a hundred feet away, then hesitated. If it worked, this would be the greatest change in her life - and she wasn't sure she could cope with it, or that she had what it took to make the change. She was small for a Khajit, suthay, not even suthay-raht ...

She felt a warm presence beside her. _Bormah?_

 _Geh, moni. You are ready, though it is somewhat earlier than your zeymah or I had expected. But that may be well, after all, since you will need to make your new abilities reflexive instead of seeking out others' memories, which will take time._

 _You are preparing me for something as bad as Alduin? Or worse?_

 _At least equal, perhaps worse._

 _Very well, Bormah. As always, I do Your will._

There was no reply, so she willed the change.

And screamed, as she doubled over. A tiny bit of her noted wryly that Uncle Sor had, if anything, understated the pain. Bones altered, arms reforming into wings. Face went from feline to dovah muzzle. Legs remained legs, but changed shape, and feet became totally different. Even her skin felt odd.

When the pain ebbed, she moved toward the rest, awkwardly. Her legs didn't work right, and she had to use her arms - no, wing joints - to keep herself from falling.

Odahviing approached. "Thuri ... hi brit! Vintaas yuvon ... zok brit."

She was beautiful? Shining gold ... she didn't feel beautiful. The only thing she felt at the moment was clumsy. "You are too kind, vahriini. I can barely move without breathing dirt. I envied the dragon form, but now ... it is so hard to move."

"It is always clumsy, on the ground. You saw my problems on Hofkasejun's Great Porch, but you will improve with practice." Odahviing nuzzled her shoulder. "You need to be a-wing, thuri, to feel the glory of this form. Spread your wings, and ask one of your soul-sibs to show you how to use them."

"Geh." Yssha reached for her soul-sibs, and it was Mirmulnir who answered first.

 _It is good you have taken your true form, thuri. It will be even better to show you how to use it. Sit on your haunches and extend your wings._

Yssha tried, but a dragon body didn't balance the same way her Khajiit one did, and she found it impossible to remain upright long enough to stretch out her new wings.

Odahviing studied her thoughtfully. "What is wrong? You have experienced enough dragon memories that this should come easily to you, but it clearly is not doing so."

"I think I can guess," Sorcalin said. "Even a werewolf goes through a familiarization period after the change from human to werewolf, and the basic form is similar. There's a far greater difference between Khajiit and dovah - I'm betting she's going to have to retrain muscle memory for this form, like a baby learning to walk."

"Bormah did tell me I would have to make my new abilities reflexive," Yssha said. "So your analogy is probably accurate." She made sure to make eye contact with everyone before she spoke again. "Please, all of you, say nothing of this until I authorize it. I have appearances I must maintain, with both dov and vodov. I think it unwise to let my were status be known until I am equally competent in either form."

"A very good point," Andreius said. "Sor and I won't say anything."

"Nor will we," Imiril promised soberly. "I certainly know the need to maintain appearances." He grinned. "Nobody'd believe us anyway."

"I do think you should tell, and maybe show, a few people, though," Marcurio said. "Nevan, Serana, Grams, and Paarthurnax, at least."

"You have a point," Yssha conceded. "Them at first, then perhaps a few others as I gain greater control of this form. I am glad to have it, do not misunderstand - I simply wish to be competent with it before the knowledge spreads widely."

"Understood, love." Marcurio grinned. "Personally, I prefer your Khajiit form - but I have to echo Odahviing's opinion. Even as a dragon, you're beautiful. Unfortunately, mirrors don't come large enough for you to see that for yourself."

"With two I trust telling me so, I willl believe it. Perhaps some day I will be able to see what I look like in this form, but for now, my primary concern must be learning to use it." She sighed. "But I will have to do that in a place where I cannot be seen practicing." She turned to Odahviing. "It seems I will be dependent on you for transportation for some time yet, brod-zeymah."

He gape-grinned. "I do not find that an unpleasant prospect, thuri. If you wish to return home, though, you will need to change back."

Yssha winced, then willed the shift, collapsing when it was complete. She stared at Sorcalin as Marcurio helped her up. "You did say this gets easier with practice, did you not?"

"I did, and in the experience of every werewolf I've talked to, it does ... but you might want to have some healing or stamina potions around, for the dovah-to-Khajiit shift."

"I have a stamina potion, if you'd like it," Imiril offered.

Yssha nodded, accepting the potion he offered, and swallowed it. Then she sighed. "Thank you - that was a great help. I will make it a point to keep some on hand for this part of my changes. Now, I believe I would like to go home and get some rest. We can go to Monahven and tell the others as soon as I am able to avoid falling on my nose every time I move."


	30. Imperial Visit

.

Chapter 30 - Imperial Visit

15 Sun's Height, 5E 3, Monahven

The first thing Yssha did the day after she'd met her self-imposed requirement of not falling on her nose every time she tried to move was call Grams, then she, Grams, Nevan, and Serana flew to Monahven and greeted Paarthurnax. Once Yssha had impressed the need for secrecy on all of them - not hard to do - she explained what she'd learned from Andreius and Sorcalin several days before.

Grams nodded. "With that background, I'm pretty sure you're going to make it. And I'm not sure whether to congratulate you when it happens, or commiserate with you."

Yssha frowned. "What do you mean? Am I missing something?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm making a connection that isn't really there." Grams sighed. "But think of what you just told us, and remember the last line of the Last Dragonborn prophecy."

"The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn," Yssha murmured. "Yes ... if the Wheel in that line is the Aurbis ... It could mean my success. I shall have to consider that. But that is only the secondary reason I wished to bring you here. I have already achieved something else, something my vahriinne have been wishing."

Paarthurnax gave her a slow gape-grin. "You can now become dovah in form, as well as spirit," he said. "Am I correct, Dovahkiin?"

"You are," she replied, bowing to him. "I am here to demonstrate that fact to the rest of those closest to me. Though I fear it will take me a great deal of practice to be able to make actual _use_ of my new form! So if the rest of you would join Paarthurnax, please?"

When they'd done so, she moved a bit further away, and willed the change. She'd been through it a few times before, so she was able to hold back her scream, but she still had to support herself on all four limbs.

Paarthurnax cocked his head. "Brit, ko vazah," [beautiful, truly] he said admiringly. "And a bit larger than Alduin, as well." He smiled at her. "I may be as celibate as the rest of the Greybeards, but none of us has lost appreciation for the female form."

Nevan chuckled. "I'm not sure that's even possible for a male," he said.

"I sincerely hope not," Serana said, grinning.

Yssha hid a grin. Those two were as bad as she and Marcurio had ever been! "Well, with this demonstration over, we should leave. His Majesty will be docking in Solitude soon, and I must change into something more suitable for a royal greeting."

She shifted back, downed both a healing and a stamina potion, and they left.

* * *

Solitude

Yssha and Balgruuf were in the forefront as the _Katariah_ sailed slowly away from its escort of four warships and toward the Solitude docks. She was clearly pregnant, and equally clearly happy about it, which had other spectators smiling. But she wasn't thinking about that as she watched the Emperor's ship. She was more concerned about whether to tell him about her new status. Balgruuf, as her oldest friend in Skyrim, she'd tell as soon as she was able to start actually flying, but beyond that, she didn't really want to mention it until she was competent in the air.

Which would take quite a bit more practice. Dragons might fly by magic, but they controlled that flight by physical means - wings, head and tail positions, and how the body moved. In those, she was still at the "baby steps" stage - gliding and learning to land without banging her muzzle on the ground. Part of the problem with her progress, which was slower than she liked, was that it was so hard to find a private place for her practice. Skyrim seemed huge when you were traveling it by foot or horse, but when you were a large gold dragon bumbling around trying to learn to fly properly, it seemed a great deal smaller. At least Sorcalin was right, that the shift remained painful, but was becoming more bearable. Especially with stamina potions for the shift back to Khajiit, and a nice healing spell. Not that there was any physical damage, but it soothed her nerve endings.

She brought herself back to the present as the _Katariah_ approached the dock and was moored, the gangplank extending and Penitus Oculatus agents descending first. Emperor and Empress followed, with Grams behind them, giving Yssha a quick grin before the Emperor greeted her. "It's good to see you, Stormcrown. You're doing well, I hope."

"Very well, Your Majesty." Yssha smiled. "I find pregnancy agrees with me. And yourself?"

"We're well, also," he replied. "You and Thane Marcurio will join Us for refreshments after the formalities are over?"

"Gladly."

* * *

Two days later was the state dinner and ball at the Blue Palace, with all the Jarls and their Thanes in attendance. Yssha had her usual reaction to that, wishing she could keep out of it - a nice simple meal at the Winking Skeever, or better yet, at home, would have been far preferable. But as Stormcrown and Jarl of Skyhold, she didn't have a lot of choice, so she made the best of it.

The meal was excellent, as was to be expected, since Jarl Elisif had managed to somehow persuade the Gourmet himself to prepare it. Yssha had met him once, at Nightgate Inn, where he lived pretending to be a writer, reclusive ... she couldn't blame him for it a bit.

When he came into the dining room to check on the royal guests' reaction to his menu and approached her, she purred. "Your Potage was especially magnificent this evening, my friend. Were it not for your cooking, I would be happier eating in a more simple setting."

He bowed, elegantly for an orc. "You honor me, Majesty." His smile might have been frightening, but she had several Orsimer friends, and had no problems with their tusks. "Let me know if you wish me to cater a party, or even if you wish a simple meal prepared by an expert."

"I appreciate the offer, and may well take you up on it." Yssha smiled. "Be well, my friend. I would talk longer, but I know you are quite busy at times like this."

He nodded, and moved on to High King Balgruuf, then circulated among the rest of the guests, particularly the Jarls.

When the meal was over, the part Yssha especially hated began - the ball. Again, it was something she would have preferred to avoid, but couldn't. At least she could comfort herself that, until his progress brought him to Helgen, she could forget about the ceremonial things she hated, and take care of some small chores that had gotten shoved to the bottom of the to-do list, as well as continue her lessons in using her dragon body.

The next morning, she watched the Emperor, Empress Shameer, Grams, and Lieutenant Salvarus, head of the Mede's personal security, depart in a royal carriage that would let them be seen. They were accompanied by a dozen Penitus Oculatus agents, with Pahovgein and four Skyguard teams providing air cover.

Once the party was out of sight, Odahviing landed, looking at her sympathetically. Dragons, like Argonians and Khajiit, showed emotion mostly in body language, and it had taken her time to learn it, but now she interpreted it easily. "Home, thuri?"

"Yes, please." She and Marcurio mounted, Yssha casting a mage armor spell on herself below the waist - she could no longer get into her armor or leather riding gear, so there wasn't much of a choice.

It was a real relief to get home and greet everyone, especially Freyr, who was growing and learning faster than she would have believed possible. Well, she knew it was; she'd been around human children her whole life. But it seemed so much faster when she was the child's mother! And the differences in size between Nord and Khajiit were becoming obvious; she no longer had to kneel to hug or kiss him. She smiled. "What have you been up to while we were gone, son?"

"Uncle Nevan teaching us two-handed, sword and dagger, an' a bit of hand-to-hand. Then a bit of magic, how to heal ourselves. I wanted to learn Flames, but he said not till we had healing enough to fix ourselves if we messed up."

"Which you have to admit makes sense," Yssha said. "And you should also learn Frost, so you can put out any fires you start by accident."

"Awww ... okay, mama. But I'm already good at healing - watch!" The boy took his dagger and slashed his palm, then cast Healing on himself, and the wound closed smoothly. He beamed at her. "See? And still have good reserves!"

"Very good!" Yssha smiled. "So, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Everything, mama, just like you!" He grinned. "'Cept Jarl. That looks boring. Spellsword, alchemist, enchanter ... adventurer!"

"It will be a lot of work," she cautioned. "And in this Family, a year of adventuring is expected, you know, so you can decide if it's really right for you, or if you'd prefer something a bit more settled."

"Uh-huh - and Rayya keeps telling me tastes change. But now, I want adventuring."

"And we will see you have the training necessary to to it properly. But who knows, you may discover a taste for business, and want to take over papa Marcurio's Porter Service when he decides to retire."

Freyr frowned. "Maybe think about that later. It sounds as boring as being a Jarl. Can I go talk to Ahkrinbo for another Dovahzul lesson now?"

"Certainly - I would not be surprised for you to become a dragonrider, and if so, you will need the language."

That got a wide grin. "That's what he says - thanks, mama!"

Yssha was smiling when she and Marcurio went inside, where Rayya was brewing tisane. "A couple of minutes yet, my ... Yssha."

* * *

While the Emperor and his party made their way from Solitude to Dawnstar to Winterhold and Windhelm, Yssha took care of some of her simpler errands, like delivering Song of the Alchemists to Lami in Morthal, finding Night Falls on Sentinel for Rustleif in Dawnstar, and the Ring of Pure Mixtures for Frida, the Dawnstar apothecary.

Although, she thought ruefully as they encountered enemies in their quests, she wasn't allowed to do much. As her belly swelled, her team not very subtly took over the fighting, though she was still the one who opened the treasure chests and retrieved their objectives. It wasn't as good as doing her own fighting, but at least it was better than staying home trying to understand the books she'd been sent.

Andreius had been right, she'd quickly decided. These were deeply mystical, and not anything she could understand intellectually. But she kept at them, reading bits and pieces every day, futile though it felt - rather like picking at a slow-healing wound to make it heal more quickly.

So in a way, it was a relief when she came across the letter she'd found in Glover Mallory's basement. She swore to herself, then went to find Marcurio.

"I need to make a quick trip to Riften, beloved. Just something I must deliver to Sapphire, and I would like to get it done before the Imperial Progress arrives there - I think tomorrow. I fear that if I am there when they arrive, I will feel obliged to take part in the ceremonies, and you know how I hate that."

Marcurio chuckled. "You do your best to hide it, but it's pretty much an open secret. Mind if I go along?"

"Of course not, beloved - I always welcome your company." She smiled as they left the house and called Odahviing for transport to Riften.

Once there, she lost no time hurrying to the Guild's new headquarters, grateful that she no longer had to endure the stench of the Cistern. Inside, she greeted her people, then drew Sapphire aside to hand her the letter. "This is yours, my friend."

Sapphire looked confused, but took the letter and read it, her expression one that Yssha couldn't interpret. She was silent for most of a minute, then she looked at her Guildmaster. "I ... I can't believe it. All those years on the farm, and my mother never told me about any of this. Words can't even begin to describe how much I appreciate you bringing this to me. Here, take this. I used to carry it for good luck, but I think you deserve it more than I do."

She handed Yssha the most exquisite sapphire the Khajiit had ever seen. "Keep it," Sapphire said softly. "It may or may not really bring luck, but there's no denying it's beautiful."

"It surely is that," Yssha agreed. "Thank you, Sapphire."

"Thank _you_ , Dragonborn, for giving me a family again."

"The pleasure was mine, I assure you." Yssha turned to Brynjolf, changing the subject. "When is the royal party due to arrive? Tomorrow, if I recall correctly."

"Day after," Brynjolf replied. "They were delayed in Windhelm when one of his Penitus Oculatus guards was killed - whether murder or accident is still being investigated, but that's more formality than anything else, since the witnesses all said it was a training mishap. They had to send for a replacement from his Palace bodyguard."

Then he chuckled. "Nobody's going to steal from his party, at least not anywhere in Skyrim. I've put Guild protection on them - thought you'd approve."

Yssha smiled. "I do, very much so. Thank you, my friend. Is there any other Guild business I must deal with?"

He hesitated. "Well ... Jarl Mjoll's getting pretty insistent about meeting the new Guildmaster, or at least knowing who 'he' is. I'm not sure how long I can keep stalling her."

Yssha sighed. "You have known her longer than I have. Can she be trusted to keep secrets of this magnitude? And act appropriately on the response, considering what the current answer is?"

Brynjolf frowned, considering the question as he scratched his stubble. Yssha thought he'd look better either clean-shaven or with at least a short beard, but his facial hair was his own business, after all ...

"Umm," he said at last. "She's too blinkin' honest for my taste, but that does mean you can trust her for just about anything that doesn't include compromising Aerin's safety." Then he grinned. "Of course, Your Majesty could simply order her not to say anything about your identity, on penalty of being executed for treason."

Yssha sighed. She really preferred to forget - or at least ignore - her powers as Stormcrown, co-ruler of the Empire. Unfortunately, her Guild-Second was fully aware of that, and enjoyed teasing her about it.

"If that is your recommendation, I shall do so. And assure her that she has nothing to fear from the Guild during the royal visit."

"Thanks, Boss." Brynjolf grinned. "At least it's easy for you to get an audience."

Yssha chuckle-purred. "It is, indeed, and I shall take care of it immediately."

"Thanks, Boss," Brynjolf repeated.

It was only a short walk from Riftweald Manor to Mistveil Keep, but it took her through the marketplace, where she stopped to chat several times, with artisans and shopkeepers. At Madesi's stall, she showed him the exquisite sapphire that Sapphire had given her. "I would like to commission you to make something for me with this," she told him.

"And what would that be?" he asked, grinning at her.

"I leave the exact item to your expertise, but I wish it to be of your Saxhleel workmanship. I ... wish it to be part of my permanent official Stormcrown regalia. So the only thing it cannot be is headgear, because that is the Stormcrown I was given by the Emperor."

Madesi sobered. "Have you any other permanent regalia that I should match it to?"

Yssha gave that some thought, then shook her head. "Not really. I have been using my 'dress' dragonscale armor and the bearskin cloak High King Balgruuf gave me, but the cloak will not be permanent, and as styles change, I may be unable to use the armor as formal dress. So whatever you make will be my second permanent piece."

"You do me too great an honor, landstrider," Madesi said.

"Not really," Yssha said with a smile. "I wish my regalia to come from the best craftsmen, and you are the only Saxhleel craftsman. Plus, I like your work. I would happily buy your entire stock, either for myself or to give as gifts, but that would leave you no stock to sell here."

Madesi shrugged. "That, I do not care about. Riften is a dead end. I would simply move and set up shop elsewhere. Solitude, perhaps, or if you would permit, Helgen."

Yssha smiled. "You would be most welcome in Helgen, of course. If you decide on there, simply speak to Lydia, my Steward. I will speak to her, authorizing you to purchase property in Skyhold."

"Please do! And to finance the move, selling you my entire stock would do nicely."

After several minutes of friendly haggling, Yssha was several thousand septims poorer, but carrying quite a few beautiful pieces of jewelry. Smiling at that, and at the prospect of Madesi moving to Helgen, she decided she might as well get the revelation to Jarl Mjoll over with.

When she got to Mistveil Keep and neared the throne, Maul approached her, grinning. "Good to see you again, Ysmir. Here to talk to the Jarl?"

"Yes. I gather you are her housecarl, as well?"

Maul nodded. "She was kind enough to keep me on, and she's a whole lot more pleasant to work for than Maven was."

"That does not surprise me at all!" Yssha agreed. Maven had been a most unpleasant person. "I gather Aerin is her Steward?"

"Who else?" Maul said with a chuckle. "Well, go ahead. I sure don't need to check _you_ out!"

"Thank you." Yssha went the rest of the way to Mjoll's throne and gave her a polite bow. "May I speak to you in private, Your Grace?"

"Of course, Ysmir. Come with me to my office, if you would."

Once they were comfortably seated, Mjoll studied her guest briefly. "What is it, my friend?"

Yssha sighed. "Brynjolf tells me you have been asking him, on a regular basis, about the Guildmaster's identity. He also says you are 'too blinkin' honest', and can be trusted with extremely sensitive information."

Mjoll gave her an unreadable look. "Are you telling me _you're_ the Guildmaster? Ysmir the Dragonborn, Stormcrown of the Empire?"

"I am indeed. You understand, I hope, why that must remain a secret."

Mjoll nodded slowly. "Yes, of course. But ... why?"

Yssha shrugged. "Initially, because I earned it, and it seemed fitting that I take over from the Guildmaster who tried to kill me, Mercer Frey. Now I keep the position because Brynjolf will not accept it, and High King Balgruuf asked me to stay for the duration of his reign. I set policy, and Brynjolf handles day-to-day operations."

She paused, remembering, and smiled. "He asked me to tell you that you will have no trouble from the Guild during His Majesty's visit. And any independents who try taking advantage of the visit will receive the usual reception from us."

"That's good to know." Mjoll smiled, then stood. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to take advantage of the extra time before his arrival to get more cleaning done."

"Of course." Yssha stood, making her way out of the Keep, satisfied. That had gone better than she had expected!


	31. Champions: Mephala

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Chapter 31 - Champions: Mephala

Mephala studied the makeup of the Emperor's party, quickly deciding that there was no time for her usual web-spinning, not with these people. She would have to pick the most vulnerable, then use the type of brute manipulation she usually detested as inelegant at best.

Who among these would be most susceptible to her manipulation? That was difficult to decide, because all of them were chosen on the basis of loyalty. Granted, there was no such thing as an incorruptible mortal, but there were those close enough as to not be worth the trouble, even for Sanguine. Had she been human, she'd probably have been chewing her lip, but instead, she scowled at her lesser servitors as she thought.

The nice-looking Penitus Oculatus agent as her unwitting champion, she decided, and his partner as his first victim, to blood and strengthen the remade Ebony Blade. Probably best to make it look like an accident, so as not to make her true intended victim suspicious.

Her next problem was getting the sword to him in a way that wouldn't make _him_ suspicious.

* * *

Festus and Cassia finished breakfast, and left the Palace of the Kings to spend their off-shift morning exploring Windhelm. It was the oldest city in Skyrim, and showed it in the worn pavement and steps, but its age also made sure it had plenty of attractions - in this case, including a house that had played a major part in a murder investigation of the Stormcrown's, and now belonged to her. They wouldn't get to see the inside, of course, but just seeing Hjerim would be like visiting a piece of history.

When they got there, an armored man was puttering around in the tiny front yard, maybe cleaning. When he saw them, he smiled. "Good day, Agents. I gather you're with the Emperor's party?"

Festus nodded. "You work for the Stormcrown?"

"Yes - I'm Calder, her housecarl. It's mostly an honorary thing, since she's here so seldom, but it's still a great honor for me."

Cassia chuckled. "Cyrodiil doesn't have housecarls, but if I understand the position correctly, it's a very responsible and highly regarded one."

Calder nodded. "You're correct. I'm supposed to be her sword and her shield, carry her burdens, that sort of thing. But given her combat teams and her husband's Porter Service, I'm actually more like the steward of Hjerim. It's a little disappointing, but someone who has ... hmm, seven housecarls - no, make that six, since Lydia was wounded and then became Steward of Skyhold - well, none of us really get to fulfill our combat duties."

"I'm sure that's disappointing," Festus said. "But maybe it means you're familiar with the Windhelm merchants?"

"Most definitely," Gregor replied with a sigh. "What are you looking for?"

"A decent sword," Festus replied. "But not too expensive, since my funds are relatively limited. And katana-style, by preference. I trained with those when I was younger, and I still prefer them to the gladius."

"Hmm." Gregor looked thoughtful. "The smith, Oengul War-Anvil, doesn't do that style, and neither he nor his apprentice are very fond of Imperials to begin with. But there's another merchant in the market, Niranye, who sometimes has odd things like that. Katanas aren't terribly popular with Nords, so if she does have one, she might let you have it for a decent price."

"Thanks, we'll check her out," Festus said. "Any other pointers?"

Gregor shrugged. "That would depend on what you're interested in. The White Phial for potions, Candlehearth Hall for food or drink - I'm guessing you're quartered in the Palace of the Kings, with His Majesty, so the accommodations there probably wouldn't incerest you."

"Correct, Housecarl," Festus said. "Thanks for the pointers - we'll go look up Niranye. Down, through the graveyard, then up again, right?"

"Right. Go with the Nine, Agents."

* * *

Festus was dubious as he approached Niranye's stall. It was clear from her display that she sold arms and armor, but the way the quality varied, and the state of the stall itself, were pretty strong hints that she might be a fence. As a Penitus Oculatus agent, he ought to report his suspicions, but he actually had no proof - she could simply buy adventurers' salvage, for all he was certain of - and it was a Hold matter, not an Imperial one. So he had no hesitation approaching her. "Mistress Niranye?"

"Aye. What can I do for you, Agent?"

"A new sword, if you have anything I like and can afford. Thank the Nine, we don't have to use issue weapons if we have the resources to provide our own."

Niranye chuckled. "And you don't like a steel gladius, hmm? Well, I do have a decent assortment. Can you give me some idea of what you're looking for?"

"Something better than steel, and a katana shape, if you have such. With scabbard, of course."

"Hmm. Let me think." Niranye frowned. "I seem to remember something like that, but there's so little demand for katanas, I don't have it here. Do you have time for me to run home and find it?"

"Sure. We're off for the morning, don't go back on duty till after midday meal."

"I won't be anywhere near that long. Keep an eye on my merchandise, would you?"

"Certainly," Festus said, as she ran off. With a couple of Penitus Oculatus agents standing at her stall, there was no danger of it being robbed, that was a certainty!

When Niranye returned, she was carrying a sword in a curved scabbard. She handed it to Festus. "Found on a dead adventurer, as I recall, by the one who sold it to me. It's nice, and it's enchanted, but no one I've shown it to can identify the enchantment."

"Huh. I'm not sure about an unknown enchantment, but ... " Festus drew the katana, and his breath caught. Ebony, beautifully wrought, and yes, with the faint gleam of an enchantment. He hefted it, then went through a brief series of exercises, smiling at the feel of it. Then he re-sheathed it, and reluctantly handed it back. "It's great, but I can't possibly afford ebony. Especially not enchanted ebony."

"That ... might be negotiable." Niranye frowned. "That sword ... for no reason I can identify, I simply do not like it. I want it out of my home. I'll consider any reasonable offer."

Festus dug into his coin purse. He had some savings, they'd just gotten paid, and he could live fairly well on Penitus Oculatus rations till next payday ... and he really wanted that sword. "I've got four hundred thirty-five septims." Which was nowhere near enough for even an unenchanted ebony blade, so he was astonished to hear Niranye's reply.

"It's yours. Just get it away from me." She shuddered, shoving the scabbarded blade toward him. "It ... makes me very uncomfortable."

"I'm not going to argue," Festus said, paying her and taking the sword. Then he turned to Cassia, grinning. "Let's get back to quarters so I can drop the gladius off with our armorer and start using this."

She sighed, but then returned his grin. "All right. Then, knowing you, you're going to want to spar with it to get used to the feel."

"Yeah, if you don't mind."

"Well, I hadn't planned on getting into armor until time to go on duty, but I suppose you getting used to a new weapon is worth the inconvenience."

"Thanks. We'll have to ask about a place to do it, though." Festus frowned briefly at that. "This is the first place I've seen guards' barracks without a training field close by."

"Let me do the asking." Cassia grinned. "There's room in the plaza right in front of the Palace of the Kings, but I'm willing to bet that's not usually allowed."

Festus returned the grin. "So you'll use a combination of our Penitus Oculatus status and your feminine wiles to get us permission. Go for it, partner."

"Right you are." She chuckled. "Go ahead. I'll talk to the Legionnaires guarding the plaza, then change. Meet you there when we're both done."

* * *

The Emperor's bodyguards were quartered in the Palace, near His Majesty's apartment, so Festus wasn't too surprised to encounter the Court Wizard on his way to change. "Excuse me, Master Wuunferth?"

"Yes, what is it?" the wizard asked impatiently.

"I just bought a new sword, with an enchantment the seller said she hadn't been able to get identified. I was wondering if you might be able to figure it out."

"Unidentifiable spell?" That caught Wuunferth's interest. "Hmm. Normally I'd charge for that, but a spell no other mage in town can identify ... come to my laboratory." He led the way upstairs, into a crowded room that obviously served as both bedroom and magical laboratory. "Now, give me the sword."

Festus handed it over, then watched with considerable interest as the Court Wizard put it on his enchanting table and began muttering incantations.

It was several minutes before Wuunferth straightened and returned the sword, frowning. "It's ... not a simple enchantment, like fire or frost, so I'm not surprised no one could identify it. I had to trace the elements of a rather elaborate combination back as far as I could. Whoever put the enchantment on this was far beyond my skill, or that of any mage I know. I'm not sure even Farengar in Whiterun could manage it."

Festus shrugged. He didn't particularly care about that sort of thing. "Could you find out what it's supposed to do?"

"Oh, yes. The effects were easy enough to detect, but I would dearly love to know how they were applied." Wuunferth sighed. "To answer your initial question, though, It's partially a Drain Health spell, and partially a Soul Trap. I can't completely understand how the combination is supposed to work, but I do understand I would not like to be one killed by that blade."

Festus took the sword back. "Since the only people I plan to kill at all will be the Empire's enemies, I can't say that particularly bothers me. Thank you, Master Wuunferth."

"You're welcome, I suppose. Now go do whatever you were going to when you interrupted me."

"Yes, sir - and thank you again." Festus left for his quarters, to change.

* * *

When they met in the plaza in front of the Palace of the Kings, helmets under arms, he smiled at his partner. "Wuunferth says the spell on this sword is pretty nasty, so try not to get yourself killed, okay?"

"Very definitely." Cassia put her helmet on, then drew her gladius. "And you remember I'm using unenchanted steel, okay?"

"Of course." Festus donned his own helmet, and drew his new sword. "You first."

Cassia nodded, then attacked. For several minutes, it was a standard sparring bout, then Festus became gradually more agressive, and she began wishing for a shield. His ebony sword was making a mess out of her weaker steel blade, and he was pressing her harder than he ever had before.

"Break!" she called, when she was forced down on one knee, which should have ended the bout. But Festus apparently wasn't listening, and the last thing she felt was a blade slipping under her gorget.

"CASSIA!" Festus yelled, when his partner fell with blood gushing from her throat. He turned to the Legionnaires watching them. "Get a Healer!"

Then, carefully but aware it was probably useless, he knelt beside her and raised her head. "Cassie, Cassie, don't die!"

"Too late, son," an anonymous man in priestly robes said, kneeling beside him. "I'm sorry. Do you want to take her to the Hall of the Dead yourself, or would you prefer I do it?"

Festus was numb, unable to either think or move. "You. Please. I ... I can't."

"All right." The anonymous priest picked Cassia up, then turned to the guards. "Someone get this man a mind-healer, or at least out of public view."

Festus stood, still numb, and wiped his sword on a rag he carried for the purpose, then sheathed it. One of the Palace guards led him inside, where Lieutenant Salvarus, the commander of the detachment, approached him. "What happened, Agent?"

"Cassia and I were sparring, like we've done a hundred times before. It was going smoothly, almost like a dance - you know how a good bout can be - when she stumbled, and I naturally took advantage."

"After she called 'break', the Legionnaire beside him said.

"What?" Festus turned to him, astonished. "She couldn't have - I'd have stopped if she had!"

"Or you didn't hear her," Salvarus said. "I believe you, Agent. But I'm relieving you of duty until Cassia's replacement arrives and I can speak to the other witnesses."

"Of course, sir." Festus began to unfasten the scabbard from his belt, but Salvarus shook his head.

"Keep your sword, Agent," he said. "I don't punish people for accidents, and I have no reason to believe this was anything else. You'll punish yourself far more severely than anything I could do to you."

"Yes, sir." The numbness was wearing off, and the reality of Cassia's death was setting in. "I ... I think I need a drink."

"I'll have some ale sent to your quarters," Salvarus said sympathetically. "I'd recommend getting thoroughly drunk, and I won't expect you to report for duty tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir."


	32. Mephala Strikes

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Chapter 32 - Mephala Strikes

23 Last Seed, 5E 3

Festus was sober, if badly hung over, for the first time in two days when the Emperor's party set out for Riften. It was still hard to believe he'd killed Cassia, especially for such a stupid reason as not hearing her call "break!", but he had, and her body was being taken home for burial.

While he was out of things, mostly drunkenly unconscious and happy to be that way, one of the Emperor's oldest and most trusted friends had joined the party for this leg of the trip. She was a Khajiit, beautiful for a beast-woman, he had to admit, and she was the heroine of the Oblivion Crisis, hard as it was to believe. She was so small, and looked so soft, that imagining her fighting the strongest of Dremora in the Deadlands was almost beyond belief.

Yet she wore the Imperial Dragon armor that had been commissioned for her by the long-dead Councillor (or was it Chancellor, he couldn't remember) Ocato, so he had to believe it. And there was no doubt she had founded the most influential Khajiit Family and Clan in Cyrodiil, Ysshaya. And the Dragonborn, here in Skyrim, was her greats-granddaughter.

He shook his head as he took a combination of potions to settle his stomach enough to eat breakfast before they started out for Riften. Why in Oblivion would someone like that want to go to the smelly backside of Skyrim? When he sat down to eat beside his new partner, he asked.

S'Riska shrugged. "I cannot imagine. Riften is called the City of Thieves, which is something I would find difficult to associate with Ysshaya of Ysshaya. Though she may have had connections with that Guild in her younger days; they, I understand, can be most useful to adventurers."

"Yeah, I can understand how it would be. Most of 'em commit at least some minor thievery in their careers, and the Guild is pretty hard on free-lancers. Harder than the Legion is, from what I hear."

S'Riska chuckle-purred. "Well, in a way. It is almost unknown for the Guild to kill during a job, and in fact their theft victims are usually physically safe. But the free-lancers have usually been rather thoroughly beaten up by the time they are bound and delivered to the nearest Guard post. Well, if they survive, that is."

* * *

Once they were on the road, Festus studied the situation and decide it wasn't really all that bad. The Emperor, Empress, and Champion of Cyrodiil were in the display carriage along with the Emperor's aide. Half a dozen Penitus Oculatus kept guard on either side, a squad of Legionnaires front and rear, three Skyguard teams overhead ... it was secure enough. Wild predators looked for easy prey, and bandits would shy away from even a few armed men.

After an hour or so, S'Riska asked, "Are you going to have to get drunk every night?"

Festus gave that question serious consideration, and finally shook his head. "I don't think so. That would upset Cassi, and I loved her, even if we never got physical about it. Plus it's never a good idea to have a spirit in Aetherius angry with you."

"Good. I would hate to have to nurse my partner through a hangover every morning. So - do you think the Empire has plans to invade Morrowind? Talos ordered the reunification of his Empire, after all, and only Morrowind remains independent, since King Imiril surrendered and Alinor and Valenwood rejoined."

Festus laughed. "I'm hardly in His Majesty's inner circle, you know, but I can't see any reason to bother. It may have a few cities left, but since Red Mountain erupted, there really isn't enough left of it to be worth the effort. If it was up to me, I'd maybe send an ambassador to whatever's left of their government, like he did with Argonia. Oblivion, the dragon aid and communications alone should be enough to bring 'em back in. And we did give them Solstheim as a refuge."

The Emperor had heard the conversation, and smiled, calling the Agent over.

Festus bowed as best he could, while still keeping guard. "Yes, Sire?"

"That was an interesting analysis, soldier. Is that the general opinion?"

"I'm sorry, Sire, I'm a bit confused." Which was putting it mildly, Festus thought. "That Morrowind's not worth the trouble of an invasion? Pretty much, yes. The rest was just my own opinion. By Your Majesty's leave."

"And you have a very good point." The Emperor turned to the fourth person in the carriage, his personal aide. "Quintilius, send a message to Ambassador Tharia Qiina to prepare for a trip to whatever is Morrowind's capital these days, purpose being to negotiate Morrowind's re-entry to the Empire. And note she is to use this Agent's points for said negotiation."

"Of course, Majesty," Quintilius said, making notes. "The message will go out when we stop for the day."

* * *

"I can't believe it," Festus said, after the teams had shifted position so the rear guard wouldn't have to eat dust all day. "He actually listens to us!"

"It's said all the best ones do, S'Riska replied. "And given what he has had to contend with, it wouldn't surprise me at all if history adds 'the Great' to this Emperor's name."

"After he lost the war and had to sign the White Gold Concordat?" Festus was disbelieving. "That's what sent Skyrim into rebellion!"

"True," S'Riska said calmly. "But at the first realistic opportunity, he repudiated it - and Divines, how I wish I could have been in the Throne Room to see the Thalmor Ambassador's face when he did!"

"Good point - I'd like to've seen that myself."

* * *

When they entered Riften - on foot, since the gates and roads weren't wide enough for a carriage - Grams chuckle-purred to see a tall red-haired man in dark leather armor wave at her with a grin. "You've got a bit of extra security, Titus," she said.

"Hmm? What do you mean?" the Emperor asked.

"The local Guild-Second just signaled me that you're under Thieves Guild protection. That means you and your party don't have to worry about theft while you're in Skyrim. The Guild won't even try, and free-lancers know what the Guild'll do to them if they try anything."

"Really? I find that rather surprising. I'd hardly think of thieves as model Imperial citizens."

Grams chuckle-purred again. "Oh, they're not. But even wolves know to keep their dens clean and free of lesser predators."

The Emperor chuckled. "You have a point. I'll have to think of some way to express my gratitude. Do you have any ideas?"

"I'll give it some thought," Grams promised. "It can't be anything obvious, I'm sure you understand."

"Of course."

* * *

Jarl Mjoll the Lioness met them at the entrance to Mistview Keep, bowing deeply to the Emperor. "It is a great honor to have you in Riften, Your Majesty. I've had apartments prepared for you and the Empress, and your Penitus Oculatus guards, but I'm afraid your Legion and Skyguard escorts will have to stay elsewere - Mistview Keep simply isn't large enough for them. I do apologize."

"Don't worry about it, Your Grace," the Emperor replied. "My trip planners are quite experienced, and arrangements have been made, since the size of your palace is in the records. My congratulations on your accession, by the way."

"I thank Your Majesty," Mjoll replied, "though I wish it hadn't occurred because of several murders. But will you come in? The trip from Windhelm is a long one, so you must be tired. The official functions aren't until noon tomorrow, to make time for the Grand Plaza to be cleared of merchant stalls, to make room for the crowd."

"That sounds wonderful," the Empress said. "I'm not used to such journeys, any more. A nice meal, a bath, and then bed ... " She sighed longingly. "But what of Champion Ysshaya?"

"Don't worry about it," Grams replied. "I've got several places I can stay, thanks to my great-granddaughter's contacts here. I think I'll spend tonight at Riftweald Manor."

Mjoll raised an eyebrow briefly, then nodded. "Of course. We'll see you tomorrow, then. Should I schedule a speech for you?"

"Only if you have no one else available," Grams replied. "I don't have anything prepared, and I'm a terrible speaker to begin with. So I'd really rather you didn't."

"All right. The people may be disappointed, but I'll respect your wishes."

"Thanks. Now I'm going to find some friends for a small party, then some sleep. See you for the festivities."

* * *

24 Last Seed, 5e 3

When she woke, Grams felt a type of tension she hadn't felt in many years, the kind she'd learned back during the Oblivion Crisis that meant she'd soon be in personal peril. Over two hundred years, it'd been, since she'd sensed that kind of peril. What was it this time? Not the Deadlands, surely; those had been walled off two centuries ago by Martin's sacrifice, which still hurt her heart.

She sighed, no longer used to an adventuring lifestyle. But she had resources available now that she'd never had during her adventuring life, and she was going to take advantage of one of them. When she finished breakfast, she debated getting into her armor, because of that feeling of peril, but decided against it on diplomatic grounds, since the Jarl of the Rift might see the Champion of Cyrodiil in armor as a slight to her ability to safeguard the Emperor.

Grams chuckled at herself. Oblivion, even Titus might see it as a slight against his Penitus Oculatus agents! But for her own peace of mind, when she left Riftweald Manor, she went outside the city, to where the dragon on communications duty was waiting. She didn't recognize the scale pattern, just that it was an Elder. "Drem yol lok, dovah. Zu'u Ysshaya."

"Drem yol lok, Ysshaya," the dovah replied politely. "Zu'u Agbahfaas, unpartnered. May I do you a service?"

"I would appreciate it if you would call Lokbiidaan, since I know how seriously dovah take obligations, and I don't want to ask you to leave your post."

The dovah gape-grinned. "You are most understanding." Then he Called, "Lokbiidaan, meyz het, wah Ysshaya!" [Lokbiidan, come here, to Ysshaya]

"Geh, zu'u meyz." The reply was immediate, and minutes later, the blue dragon landed, ducking his head to his friend and rider. "What is it, fahdoni?"

"An uneasy feeling that makes my want my greats-granddaughter, your thur, to join me here. Would you go to her home and tell her that?"

"Of course. But would you not rather tell her yourself?"

"I ... think not. At least ... I just want her here, not there, and I can't understand why."

"As you wish, then, fahdoni." Lokbiidaan gape-grinned, then took off.

* * *

Yssha was surprised at the request because Grams knew how she felt about ceremonial things, but since it _was_ Grams, she didn't hesitate beyond what time it took to change into something a bit fancier than a house-dress. Armor was out of the question; even the kilted version of her dragonscale no longer came even close to fitting. So she got into Taarie's latest creation, a blue silk gown with silver embroidery, and a silver belt with scabbard for her favorite eating-knife. As Marcurio wished, she was staying out of melee combat these days, so no mace or sword. At least he didn't object to her continuing with her exercise and sparring, since Danica said those were good for her.

Accompanied by her team, who _were_ armored, she asked Odahviing to fly them to Riften. When they landed, the four asked about Grams, and were told she was staying at Riftweald Manor. She grinned at that, and headed there. Vipir the Fleet was guarding the door, and smiled when he saw her. "Morning, Dragonborn. Your greats-grandmother is inside, trading tall tales with Brynjolf and Delvin."

"Thank you, Vipir."

They went inside, and Yssha greeted her Guild-Second before turning to Grams for a hug. "What is it, Grams? I was surprised to get your call."

"I can't really say, youngster. Just a very strong feeling that I wanted you nearby, that something bad is going to happen." Grams shrugged. "Anyway, thanks for coming. You're looking well."

"I am feeling so, also." Yssha smiled. "Though I must admit I miss action. Marcurio has become more protective than I am comfortable with. Though I understand that is a common reaction for a husband with a pregnant wife."

"Very," Grams said with a chuckle. "I'd be worried about him if he weren't, in fact."

"Thanks for that, Grams," Marcurio said. "I can't help worrying about her and our son."

Yssha sighed. "Well, since we are here, I suppose I should pay my respects to the Emperor and Jarl. Fortunately for my peace of mind, it is far too late for me to be given a place in the formal ceremonies."

Grams chuckle-purred. "True. Go take care of your social obligations, and I'll see you at the ceremony."

* * *

Yssha wasn't sure what to think of the Grand Plaza, cleared of the usual merchant stalls and the two beggars who were usually there, and with a dais holding improvised thrones for Emperor and Empress. It was the cleanest and quietest she'd ever seen it, which was nice, but on the whole, she decided she'd prefer the usual hustle and bustle. But as time neared for the ceremony, the plaza began to fill, and she was able to chat with several of her merchant friends before she and Grams had to get up on the dais, then bow as the Emperor and Empress were seated, and Jarl Mjoll the Lioness joined them.

It was a fairly standard ceremony, with Jarl Mjoll making a brief speech, then introducing Grams and Yssha, and finally the Emperor and Empress. The Emperor's speech praised Mjoll for the efforts she was making to improve Riften, and other changes she intended to implement.

Finally the speeches ended, and the sovereigns rose from their improvised thrones and stepped off the dais to mingle briefly with the townsfolk. Grams was chatting with a Khajiit Penitus Oculatus agent, one of the two nearest the Emperor, when she spotted a flash of black as the other drew his sword and lunged at his sovereign.

There was no time to charge or cast a spell, so Grams did the only thing she did have time for. She shoved her friend back, away from the sword - and felt it enter her own back. Mephala, observing, took advantage of the changed target, guiding the black blade a couple of inches to the right. Grams' breath caught, then everything went black as she started to fall.

* * *

She was alone, in nothingness. No sun, no wind, no color, no anything else, for what seemed an eternity. But then Martin was beside her, and the dining room at Cloud Ruler Temple appeared around them. She studied her friend briefly, sipped at the wine that had also appeared, and put the goblet down. "I gather I'm dead, then. It's ... not quite what I expected."

"Not quite yet," Martin said, "but by the time your body hits the ground, you will be. Mephala guided her unwitting champion's blade straight to and through your heart - you're beyond the help of even the best healers. You're on the way to Aetherius, but for now, you and I are in a bubble of stopped time."

"But ... why?" Grams asked. "I don't really mind, you know. I knew this time would come eventually, and as I told Paarthurnax and Yssha, I'm looking forward to reunions with the friends and family that went before me. So why the delay?"

"Because my son Talos reminds me that you promised to midwife my daughter Yssha's baby, and you can't do that from Aetherius. To do that, you'll have to either remain in Mundus as a ghost, or return, also as a ghost. Returning is by far the more difficult, at least mentally."

"Huh. I could't help much as a ghost, either. But why're you calling them your son and daughter? You never had any - " Grams stopped herself as realization struck. "You're not really Martin, are you, my Lord?"

Sadly, he shook his head. "No. When Martin smashed the Amulet of Kings, he lost his individual existence in becoming part of me. He sacrificed himself knowingly and willingly to save Mundus. As your greats-granddaughter has done, and will continue doing. We feel we owe you more than enough for your own sacrifices to solidify your ghostly body long enough to help Yssha give birth, though you will fade and ascend to Aetherius once you have cleaned and held him briefly."

"And your recommendation, Lord Akatosh?"

"Remain on Mundus, not appearing to anyone until shortly before the birth, and then only to those directly involved. That would be the easiest course for all concerned."

"So be it, then."

* * *

The body finished falling, blood beginning to pool around it.

"GRAMS!" Yssha screamed, running to kneel beside her greats-grandmother and beginning to cast Restoration spells. At the same time, S'Riska drew on his partner, and Marcurio cast a Paralysis spell on both of them.

Other Penitus Oculatus agents surrounded the two paralyzed ones, prying the bloody sword from Festus' hand and putting him in shackles. Then one turned to Marcurio. "Thanks, mage - that was quick thinking."

"Thanks. Now I need to help my wife." He joined Yssha, kneeling beside Grams, but stood almost immediately, pulling her up with him. "It's too late, love. She's gone."

Yssha howled in a combination of rage and anguish, then buried her face on his chest and began pain-purring. Khajiit couldn't cry like humans, but the Divines had given them an equivalent release, though one most humans didn't recognize.

The rest of the Penitus Oculatus agents formed a cordon around the Emperor and Empress, hurrying them back to Mistveil Keep.

Mjoll called Nevan and Serana over. "Do either of you know if she had a particular devotion to any of the Nine?"

Both shook their heads. "Though since she was a Blade," Serana said thoughtfully, "there is a tie to Talos."

"All right, I'll mention that to Sister Allesandra, our Priestess of Arkay."

* * *

Titus turned to his wife, once they were in private. "I'm sorry, Shameer, but I don't think this progress can continue as we intended it,with Ysshaya murdered. I think we need to return to Imperial City and arrange for her to lie in state, preferably in the Temple of the One, as soon as possible."

The Empress nodded slowly. "I think you're right. Continuing after such a great loss would be ... perhaps not quite dishonorable, but improper. Though ... if any of the local mages can cast a stasis spell on her body, it might be well to send for her ceremonial armors, and let her body continue on the shortest route home, with full Imperial honors."

"Yes, that would be fitting. We will fly home, but she will be taken to the Temple by land, and with full honors. I'll have the arrangements made by morning."


	33. Trial and Execution

.

Chapter 33 - Trial and Execution

Yssha refused to leave Grams' body, so it fell to Marcurio to break the news to the rest. Nevan and Serana were unsurprised, having seen Grams fall and heard Yssha's shriek, but when he went outside Riften to tell Odahviing, he found a very upset dovah. "Why did thuru Yssha scream for Grams?" he demanded immediately. "Is she all right?"

"Yssha is, physically, but Grams was killed by one of the Emperor's bodyguards when he - the bodyguard - tried to kill the Emperor and Grams shoved His Majesty away. The killer got her instead." Marcurio hesitated. "I think he was using Mephala's Ebony Blade, which is ... troubling."

Odahviing snarled. "And the killer?"

"Is in custody of the Penitus Oculatus. Why?"

"Because when he is condemned, I would claim vengeance for my Clan Mother, my brod-monah. I am eldest, and in Skyrim, I have that right. As you did when you, Nevan, and Serana executed the killer and associates of those who assassinated our thur the first time."

Marcurio nodded. "I'll get word to His Majesty. I know he tries to follow provincial custom when it doesn't directly conflict with Imperial law, and I'm pretty sure that doesn't."

"Good. Then I will think on the best way to execute such a one. Unfortunately, most of our methods kill a vodov too quickly for him to suffer properly."

Marcurio hesitated. "Well, speed of death has to be at least roughly proportionate, so you couldn't torture him for days for a simple sword blow. How about dropping him from as high as you can fly?"

Odahviing considered that, his head cocked to one side. "Hmm. That may do, if something I have heard is correct. Are humans truly afraid of heights?"

"Not in Skyrim, with all the mountains we have here. Or at least not if there's something solid under foot." Marcurio grinned fiercely. "Yeah, that would be good."

"We work well together, clan-brother. It will be so, if I am given the opportunity. Nor will he find my claws in his shoulders comfortable at all. I will inform the rest of the dov of the Divine Crusader's demise."

Marcurio watched Odahviing's departure, then returned to Riften, went to Mistview, and asked to speak to the Emperor.

* * *

Dragon-borne news spread quickly, of course. By evening, everyone in Tamriel knew the Champion of Cyrodiil had been killed, and that the killer would be tried in the morning - and that Odahviing had claimed the right of family vengeance for the death of his clan-mother.

* * *

25 Last Seed 5E 3

The trial was immediately after the Emperor finished breakfast, and he would've conducted it himself but for being a close friend of the victim. Instead, he recused himself in favor of the Jarl.

Mjoll's first words, after the formal opening of the trial, were, "I should recuse myself as well, since I was a witness, but Skyrim law does not allow an outside Jarl to deal with a problem in a hold not his own, and capital cases must be decided by a Jarl. So this trial will proceed despite that irregularity."

When the prisoner was brought forward, she addressed him. "Festus Terek Sulla, you are accused of attempted regicide and the murder of Ysshaya of Ysshaya, Hero of Kvatch, Champion of Cyrodiil, and Divine Crusader, among other titles which I will recite if you wish. How say you?"

Festus shook his head. "I don't know, Your Grace. I honestly don't - everything went blank. I might've done everything you just said, but ... I don't know."

"Then we will assume a not guilty plea for now, and call the requisite three witnesses to the facts of your actions. Agent S'Riska. State your relationship with the accused."

"He was my assigned partner, Your Grace."

"And your account?"

"He and I were closest to the Emperor when he and the Empress descended to mix with your people. I was chatting with the Ysshaya - that means she was head of her Clan - when she moved suddenly to shove His Majesty away. Had it been anyone else, I'd have assumed lese-majesty, but not with her - then I saw Festus shove his sword into her back. Then within an eyeblink, both of us were paralyzed."

"Thank you, Agent, you are excused. Battlemage Marcurio Marcellus Julian, take the stand, please." When he had done so, she continued. "State your relationship to the deceased."

"She was my Clan Mother," Marcurio said slowly. "Yssha Dovahkiin, Nevan of outplane, Serana Volkihar, our adopted son Frejr, and I had formed a Khajiit-style Family. Yssha petitioned for acceptance into Clan Ysshaya, and was granted it. Not long after, we invited Odahviing into our Family, and he accepted."

"And your version of the events?" Mjoll prompted.

"Yssha and I were watching Grams - excuse me, Ysshaya - chat with Agent S'Riska, when she pushed the Emperor down. I'm a battlemage; I charged Paralysis for double-casting, and when I saw Festus' sword move, I cast. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough to keep him from cutting down my Clan Mother." He glared at the accused.

"Thank you, Battlemage. You may step down."

Mjoll turned to the Emperor. "I realize this is most irregular, Sire, but you were the other closest person. Would you be willing to testify?"

"I would." He took the witness stand. "I am Titus Mede II, Emperor of Tamriel."

"And would Your Majesty please give us your version of events?"

"Certainly, Your Grace." The Emperor paused briefly. "The formal ceremonies had just ended, and my Empress and I had just stepped down from the dais to speak informally to your people. I saw a bit of movement and a flicker of black, I believe, to my right, then Ysshaya shoved me to the ground. I was about to ask her what in Oblivion was going on, when she collapsed and I saw Marcurio casting a spell at two of my bodyguards. It wasn't until a few moments later, as I was being helped to my feet, that I saw Ysshaya in a pool of blood, and one of my bodyguards being carried away, paralyzed and in shackles."

Mjoll rose and bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty. By your leave, and with your agreement, I find the testimony compelling."

Titus nodded. "It is your court, Your Grace. As long as you don't violate Imperial law, I may not interfere." He left the witness stand.

"I will not, Sire." Mjoll turned to Festus, who was quite pale at this point. "Prisoner, you have heard the testimony. Do you have anything to add in your own defense?"

Festus was trembling as he shook his head. "Since I can't remember anything of it ... no, Your Grace."

"Then I sentence you to death without delay, at Odahving's h ... uh, discretion. Priestess Alessandra will give you last rites."

When that was done, Mjoll spoke again. "Guards, take him outside the walls."

Minutes later, those in the city heard a scream, then dragon wings as the scream continued, growing faint with distance. A roar of, "Dir, krivaan!" was followed moments later by a splash from Lake Honrich as those who knew enough Dovahzul translated Odahviing's "Die, murderer!" for those who didn't.

Yssha sat vigil with Grams' body as it was prepared for transport to the Imperial City. Priestess Alessandra and her acolytes kicked her out of the Hall of the Dead for the actual embalming, but Yssha was allowed back in afterwards, and no one disturbed her meditations.

It seemed disrespectful in a way, but sitting here with Grams' body in a place sacred to Arkay, it also seemed fitting that she try coming to terms with her immortality. She'd accepted it to save her dovahhe from the possibility of another Alduin, then accepted the necessity of her tempering for the same purpose, difficult as it had been. She hadn't thought it through at the time, though, and still didn't want to, but she did need to.

She remembered telling Paarthurnax that she could no more comprehend immortality than her vahriinne could comprehend mortality, except under the influence of Dragonrend. Was there perhaps a Shout she could use on herself to allow comprehension, at least temporarily? There were words for the concept of "immortal know permanent" - "vojoor mindok vofrul" - but that didn't fit the pattern Arngeir had taught her was necessary for a Shout, of having three one-syllable words. There was also the problem of needing to have a deep understanding of a rotmulaag to be able to use it in a Shout, and her lack of understanding of "vojoor" was precisely the problem.

She could ask one of her soul-sibs to share their knowledge of it with her, but she wasn't sure how useful that would be. They couldn't make the contrast she needed, between the two states, though once she worked it out as best she could, she'd certainly check to be sure she'd gotten the vojoor part right.

Mortality was easy, since she'd been introduced to it at a young age, living on a farm. Life depended on death ... everything a mortal ate had been living once, but by the time it was eaten, was dead. For her purposes, the undead could be disregarded; she wasn't, and couldn't become, one of those.

So. She herself could die, and probably would, numerous times. She'd already done it ... what, five times so far? Once assassinated in Dragonsreach, once for Ungarion's convenience, and she was reasonably sure three times during her torture. The process was painful, but not permanent; she would come back, as she already had. She'd like to ask Uncle Andreius about his experiences, but she was also reasonably sure that came under the promise she'd given Azura not to bring uncomfortable things up for a couple of hundred years.

A couple of hundred years. At her age, that seemed like it would be forever, but ... it would be only a tiny part of her life, and that was hard to comprehend. Her honorary uncles were both over that age, still hale and hearty. Like her, Andreius would remain that way, but eventually, they would both outlive Sorcalin. And Marcurio, and even their children. A hand instinctively went to her rounded belly, and she blinked back tears. She would outlive any children she might have, so ... perhaps only the one, much as she loved children. She wasn't sure how much of that kind of pain she could endure.

Ful -so. She would lose all her vodov friends, except Andreius - and Qolaas, if the undead Dragon Priestess ever relaxed enough to become a friend. No, wait ... she'd used the resurrection Shout, and that returned soul to body, so Qolaas wasn't undead any longer. Her High Priestess would die as well, then. She couldn't come to terms with all of that, just yet, but she would over time, she was certain. She'd have to, or go insane, and the Divines probably wouldn't allow that to Dovahjud and Stormcrown.

On the other hand, many of her friends now were dovah, as immortal as she, so she wouldn't lose them. Nor would she lose Bormah Akatosh, or Talos, or the other Divines. Or, she reminded herself, any of the Daedric Princes. Five were all right, one of the others she had plans for if she ever figured out how ... she simply shrugged. If she proved able to un-curse Jyggalag,somehow, she might let him handle the hostile five, or perhaps she'd do something about them herself. The more they acted against those she was responsible for or cared about, the more she was inclined to the latter.

She considered the Princes for a moment. Grams' murderer had used Mephala's sword, and unlike Honmund in Markarth, had claimed to remember nothing, not even a nightmare. She - or someone - should probably have suggested he be checked for Daedric compulsions, but she had been in too much shock to even think about it.

It was entirely possible the same went for the rest, as well. That sort of investigation wasn't routine, and required a stronger mage than even Marcurio. Not that he'd be allowed to, as an interested party ... as were the rest of her team. Nor would it have made any difference in the sentence, even if the victim had been far less of a historic figure. Well, it was too late to regret a possible oversight, even if she had cared, which she realized she didn't.

* * *

26 Last Seed, 5E 3

Yssha had intended to accompany the funeral cortege all the way to the Temple of the One, but those plans changed abruptly when they passed through Ivarstead with her and her team following the carriage with the bier, and they got more attention than Grams did. That was probably understandable, considering that Grams' exploits had been so long ago, but it still bothered her.

Once they were through the town and on the way to Helgen, back in their carriage, she turned to Marcurio and the others. "We are distracting from Grams' final journey, rather than enhancing it as I had hoped. I believe we should return home until the cortege actually enters the Imperial City, where her final triumph took place, and vhere we have done nothing of note. With maybe a few minor adventures to relieve our - or at least my - boredom while they travel."

Marcurio thought about that, then nodded. "I'm not so sure about the adventures, the way even seemingly minor ones can turn into major challenges, but ... you're right about the rest."

Yssha sighed. "Please, beloved. Although I am pregnant, I am not helpless. Even though I am not particularly fond of mage armor, I can use it, and I always have the Dragon Aspect Shout. I will remain out of melee range, as I already have been, but ... I need some action to help me keep from brooding about Grams."

"I think that would do all of us some good," Nevan said. "Maybe check out the story of giants near Largashbur, and keep them from getting any closer to Riften?"

"Umm ... " Marcurio thought for a bit, then nodded. "That shouldn't be too bad - and since you were named Blood-Kin to the orcs after we cleared the Forsworn out of Kolskeggr Mine, it's probably something we really ought to do."

"We will go there in the morning, then," Yssha said. She really needed to find a truly private place to practice using her dragon form, but she also really needed some action!


	34. The Cursed Tribe

.

Chapter 34 - The Cursed Tribe

27 Sun's Height 5E 3

When they landed near Largashbur, the first thing they saw was two Orcs being attacked by a giant. Yssha Shouted "Fus ... Ro DAH!" at its head, throwing it away from the Orcs and into a tree. The Orcs attacked the downed giant, aided by Yssha's three team members.

As promised, Yssha stayed out of melee range until the giant was dead and one of the Orcs snarled at her. "Halt! You have no business here, outsider. Leave at once."

An Orc woman up on the Stronghold wall protested. "Ugor, no! This may be the one we need."

Ugor wasn't mollified. "We need nothing from outsiders! Yamarz will provide for us."

"We cannot carry on this way!" the woman insisted. You know we are doomed if we do not do something!"

Ugor was equally insistent. "Yamarz charged me with keeping outsiders away from Largashbur. You would have me disobey him?"

"You were charged with keeping us inside the walls. Have faith, Ugor. I only wish the best for our tribe."

Ugor snorted dismissively. "Fine, it's your neck."

Yssha looked up at the woman. "For what it is worth, I was made Blood-Kin by Gat gro-Shargakh, for some aid I gave him. I gather that information did not reach Largashbur."

"It did, Dovahkiin, but I fear Ugor is more concerned with following orders. Please forgive her."

"Forgiven, then. What is going on here?"

"I am Atub, the tribe's wise-woman. Please, our tribe suffers, and we need your help."

"Could you be more specific?" Marcurio asked.

Atub nodded. "Our chief, Yamarz, was once a strong and proud warrior. Now he is stricken, cursed. He is weak, and so our tribe is weak. The giants sense this, and intrude on our territory. Now they intrude on our very home." She sighed. "Yamarz has insisted we stay inside the walls, so there is nothing we can do without help. There is a ritual I could perform in an attempt to lift the curse, but I lack the necessary ingredients."

"If you mean alchemy ingredients," Yssha said, "I may be able to help; I have a large stock at one of my homes."

"Oh, could you?" Atub asked hopefully. "I need troll fat and a daedra heart."

"Only one of each? That is not a problem. I will be back shortly."

* * *

On her return from Windstad Manor, Yssha approached Atub with a smile, and handed her the ingredients. "Here are the things you asked for."

Atub smiled in return. "Excellent. Now you must come with me, Dragonborn. You've become part of this. You must be present for the ritual."

Yssha followed her into the Largashbur longhouse, coughing as the smell of smoke mixed with cooking odors caught in her throat. It was as dim as such longhouses always were, at least the others she'd visited since becoming Blood-Kin.

Atub approached a relatively small Orc in full Orcish armor, and said, "It is time, Yamarz."

Another Orc added, "We have angered Malacath, and now we must be punished."

Yamarz sneered, an interesting expression on an Orc, Yssha thought. "You bring an outsider here, and now insist I call on Malacath for help, when he has clearly forsaken me? You try my patience, Atub."

Atub growled under her breath. "Doing nothing will not grant our tribe relief from this curse. We must try."

Yarmarz' growl was more aubible. Then he continued, "Let's get this over with."

Yssha and her team followed them back outside, to what was clearly an altar, if not the type she was familiar with, and Atub spoke. "Now, we begin the ritual."

She placed the offerings of troll fat and Daedra heart, then raised her arms. "Great Malacath, we beseech you, aid us in our time of need!"

"Why are we bothering with this?" Yamarz' voice was filled with frustration.

"You pathetic weakling!" a disembodied voice said.

"What's that?" Yarmaz was obviously startled.

Atub smiled. "Malacath has heard my pleas. He speaks to us."

The disembodied voice spoke again, clearly displeased. "You dare summon me, Yamarz?"

"What? What is this?"

The disembodied voice shifted tone, becoming menacing. "You don't deserve to call yourself an Orc. You're weak, you're small, and you're an embarrassment. You let giants - giants! overrun my shrine. Bring me their leader's club as an offering, and I might release you from this curse."

Atub bowed deeply in the direction of the voice. "So it will be." Then she straightened, turning to the tribal chief. "Malacath has spoken, Yamarz. Your path is clear."

He walked several feet away, then turned to glare at Yssha. "Very well. You, outsider! Come here. I want a word."

As she was moving away, Atub caught her attention. "Please, Blood-Kin, help Yamarz. Do whatever you can. Our entire tribe depends on you."

Yssha gave her a small bow of assent before moving on to Yamarz, who was still glaring. "This is all your fault, you know," he grumbled. "I'm stuck fighting a giant now, thanks to you. So you're going with me. You're going to make sure I don't have any trouble reaching that giant. Don't worry, I'll make it worth your while."

"Ah, as I heard it, your Lord Malacath gave you the job of defeating the giant."

Yamarz scowled at her. "Thanks to you, I've just been issued a challenge in front of my whole tribe. By a Daedric Prince, no less. I can't ignore that. I didn't say I wouldn't fight the giant, I just said that you're going to help me get to it."

He paused briefly. "Meet me at Fallowstone Cave. Make sure I get to the giant, and I'll see that you're paid for it."

Yssha wanted to hiss at him, but decided against it. He was already upset with her; why make it worse? Instead, she led her team back outside the stronghold, to where Odahviing waited. "What I could see and hear of that was interesting," the dovah said. "I do not believe that Orc plans to obey his deity, or that he wishes you only as a bodyguard. Be cautious around that one, Dovahkiin."

"I plan to, and I agree with you. But he deserves his chance."

"I suppose so. Mount, and I will take you to Fallowstone Cave."

When they got there and dismounted, they found Yamarz hadn't arrived yet, which made sense, since he had to walk, rather than fly. He arrived several hours later, scowling when he found them waiting at the entrance. He approached, looking no happier than he had at the stronghold, maybe a little grumpier. He practically snarled at them."If there's a chance this will save me, then I'm taking it. But you better back me up. Let's get this over with."

He strode quickly into the cave. Yssha and her team exchanged grins, then followed him into the cave. He wasn't taking any precautions, so Nevan, with the fastest reflexes, took the team's point position. That proved to be a good decision not too far in, when a cave bear attacked. It fell to Nevan's sword and Serana's ice spikes, and they kept following the Orc chief. When they caught up, he was facing another cave bear, successfully holding it off with war axe and shield, but he didn't object when Nevan and Serana joined in, and when the bear went down, he thanked them grudgingly.

When Yssha and Marcurio joined them, he glared at her. "All right, I'll go kill this giant," he grumbled. Then he looked hopeful. "Unless, of course, you'd like to make some extra gold."

How very un-Orcish of him, Yssha thought. "No, Malacath gave you, and you alone, that task."

"Fine," he snorted. "Then wait here. This should only take a second." He ran ahead, muttering something about, " ... never should've come here."

They caught up just in time to see the giant whack Yamarz with his club, sending the Orc flying without benefit of wings, obviously dead when he landed. Yssha winced, remembering when she'd been hit that way, earlier in her career, and the recuperation period afterward.

She had no time to really think about that, though, because the giant charged her party, and she Shouted "Mul - Qah DIIV!" Marcurio shot her a smile of gratitude as she was clothed in Dragon Aspect, and shot flames at the giant's fur clothing. A couple of other giants joined in the fun, but while they had undoubted size and strength, they had no magic, and down here, no mammoths.

Yssha didn't feel she'd really done that much, but when the last giant went down, the disembodied voice spoke again, this time sounding satisfied. "Yamarz was a fool, always trying to scheme his way out of responsibility. He outdid himself this time, trying to send a pregnant Khajiit to face giants. Gat gro-Shargakh did well to make you Blood-Kin; I will have to show him a bit of favor.

"But for now, you and your people took care of Yamarz and the giants. Two problems solved at once. Now take Shagrol's Hammer back to Largashbur, and we'll see about whipping the rest of them into shape."

Yssha bowed. She knew little of Malacath, but from this, he seemed like one of the better Princes, and she decided she didn't mind assisting him in this way. "We will do so, Lord Malacath."

"Good. You and I will speak privately later. Now go."

* * *

When they got back to Largashbur, Atub was waiting at the altar, so Yssha and her team approached. It looked like the Orc shaman was meditating, so they waited quietly until she turned to them, then Yssha spoke. "We have returned with Shagol's Hammer."

Atub looked rather concerned. "But what of Yamarz?" she hesitated. "I see. He did not survive. He ... he died well?"

Yssha thought quickly. He'd died at the giant's first blow, which wasn't terribly heroic, and not what Atub would want to hear. But he had gone in first, alone, which did take courage, so her reply was measured. "He fought bravely, but the giant overwhelmed him."

Atub looked relieved. "Ah. That is good to hear, then."

Then Malacath's disembodied voice spoke. "The Dragonborn is being kind. Yamarz was a coward and a weakling. His deceitful ways have cost you all greatly."

Atub seemed to sag, though she didn't actually move. "So he has been punished. And what of us? What fate shall we suffer?"

"You'll have to prove yourselves, but I'm willing to give you a chance. Gularzob is in charge now. Let's hope he's a better chief."

Then the voice's attention turned to her. "Dovahkiin, place that hammer on the shrine. You're the only one who's proven worthy in all of this."

 _I believe you underestimate my team, Lord Malacath_ , Yssha sent. _But I will not interfere in what you wish of your people_. She did as Malacath had said.

 _Later, little one. Here, your people are as rejected as my own folk, so you come under my protection. Take the transformed hammer, now Volendrung, as my gift. Were you not Akatosh's own, I would claim you as my champion._

 _I would prefer not to, Lord Malacath. Your Orcs need Valendrung as a symbol of your power and justice. Leave it here, if you would- it would do far more good than hanging as an ornament in one of my armories._

 _As you wish, Child of Akatosh. But I wish you to have something of mine to help you remember this adventure through the millennia. I grant you Scourge, an ebony mace. It can banish Daedra to the Void, never to return, and also summon Dremora or other Oblivion residents to do your will."_

 _I thank you, Lord Malacath, and I accept. That is most kind of you."_

 _"You will find it on your dining table when you return home. Use or display it as you choose._

* * *

When Malacath returned to his Shadow of a Garden in his realm of Ashpit, he found Sanguine waiting for him. "What do you think of her?" the Lord of Debauchery asked his Orcish counterpart.

"Hmm." Malacath had to think about that. "This is the first real attention I've paid to her, though she did come to my notice when Gat gro-Shargakh made her Blood-Kin. If he hadn't done it for defeating the Forsworn in Kolskeggr Mine, I would have for taking on the task she just completed. In a way, it's unfortunate she can't die permanently. Reincarnated as a male Orc, she could be the greatest chief ever."

"You like her, then?"

"Like her?" Malacath scowled. "That's a peculiar question coming from you, Sanguine. But no, I wouldn't go that far. On the other hand, I can't help respecting a pregnant Suthay willing to go up against multiple giants, even backed up by that powerful team of hers. Why?"

"Because I _have_ been paying attention to her, ever since Talos cautioned me not to involve her in my little drinking game. She's been researching CHIM lately, and to put it bluntly, she's pissed at Molag, Mehrunes, Mephala, and Hermaeus. Probably at Vaermina pretty soon, too, if the Prince of Nightmare is plotting against her, as I think." He shrugged. "I know you're allied with Mephala, the way I am with Vaermina, but that's because it serves our interests, not because we're friendly with them. I'm starting to distance myself from Vaermina; you might want to consider doing the same with Mephala, out of sheer self-interest."

"Mmm." Malacath thought about that, then nodded. "CHIM isn't that kind of achievement, but Talos did manage it a few centuries ago ... maybe I ought to study this little Suthay a bit more, and decide from there. As you say, it may be time to readjust some alliances."

"Should you find in the cat's favor, perhaps you and I can find some common ground." Sanguine grinned. "Just consider it, is all I ask."

* * *

Talos had heard the advice Akatosh offered his sister's greats-grandmother, and wasn't sure he agreed with it. So when both were relatively free, dealing with only minor petitions, he "approached". "A word, Bormah?"

"Geh, kuli? You think I gave Ysshaya bad counsel?"

"Not that - it was good advising her to remain on Nirn until she need not return from Aetherius to keep her promise to Yssha. But I would question advising her not to contact at least Yssha. There is much good advice she could give, before she leaves Nirn permanently. Should that time be wasted?"

Akatosh chuckled. "A blink of an eye, in the time they will have together? Kuli, I fear you still think in mostly mortal terms. Ysshaya and her greats-granddaughter will have an eternity to trade strategy, tactics, and combat tips. Though you may have a point in one respect; perhaps it would be wise to let Yssha know that Ysshaya, in a solidified ghostly body, will indeed be acting as her midwife. Learning that at the last moments could be traumatic."

"May I be the one to tell her, Bormah? Please?"

"Geh, of course. You love your little sister, and she senses it, where she is still in too much awe of me. There is love, ko vazah, [truly] but ... once she becomes used to her new body, I think the awe will fade to the actual love most dovah hold for me. So until then, geh, act as intermediary." He gape-grinned, which looked odd on fire-wreathed jaws.

"Thank you, Bormah. I go."

Akatosh hid a chuckle at the phrasing. It had taken Talos a long time to accept that he had a dovahsil, dragon soul, perhaps because there had been few living dovah in his time, but it seemed to be manifesting more now, as in his current phrasing. This was a good thing.


	35. Sanctuary

.

Chapter 35 - Sanctuary

When Yssha was dressed and getting ready to go join Rayya for tisane, something brought Marcurio awake, to see two figures forming. The first to solidify was Talos' familiar form, smiling. "I'm here with some news I think you two will like," he said.

"And what would that be, dii zeymah?" Yssha asked.

"Bormahu was displeased when Ysshaya was killed before she was able to keep a certain promise she made you. With unfinished business, she has become a ghost rather than going directly to Aetherius. But it's a thing she can't complete if she's immaterial, so he's going to restore her material body for as long as necessary."

The other figure was recognizable now, though not solid. "If you still want me to, of course, youngster."

"Grams!" Yssha was elated. "I did not think I would see you again until I visited Aetherius myself again, voluntarily or otherwise. Of course I do! Ah, how ... how are you?"

"Dead, of course," Grams said, grinning. "I didn't have time to feel pain at all, if that's any consolation. Internal bleed-out before the shock wore off enough for the pain to surface. But I'm looking forward to Aetherius, so do me a favor, okay, and have the baby on time?"

Yssha managed a shaky purr. "I shall do my best, Grams. I am delighted you are willing to delay your departure long enough to deliver him!"

"Wouldn't miss it, and I'm grateful to Akatosh for the opportunity. I don't feel any affinity to the Sands Beyond the Stars, so I'll probably take up residence in Stormhaven and try to convince your greats-grandfather and our kids to come along, if you don't mind."

"Mind?" Yssha stared at her ghostly relative. "Grams, I would love it! Nothing could be better. My family and friends, in a realm of Aetherius where they can create their own version of what the afterlife should be for our non-Elsweyr folk ... yes, indeed. I will enjoy visiting, when I may, to follow their progress."

Grams grinned, then became serious. "Have you decided on a name for the boy?"

"No, not yet. Just that since he will look Khajiit, he should have a Khajiit name."

"Then ... I've been feeling a bit sentimental since I died. While you're deciding, would you mind considering my husband's name? With the proper honorifics for age or status, of course. Dirsha."

Yssha glanced at Marcurio, to see him nodding, and turned back to Grams. "He is Dirsha, then."

She vanished, and Talos smiled at them. "I think you've made her very happy, briinah."

"I am glad of that." Yssha smiled. "And I am glad she did not suffer."

"I'd also like to point out it was a death in keeping with her life," Marcurio added. "She sacrificed herself to save a dear friend who happened to be Emperor of Tamriel, as well. Hers may be the biggest non-Imperial funeral ever."

"Which she deserves," Talos said. I believe Bormahu would agree, so I think I'll plant a few ideas to that effect."

* * *

Marcurio smiled as he and Yssha joined the rest for breakfast. "Okay, love, you proved your point yesterday, that while you may be pregnant, you're neither defenseless nor helpless. So if you want to go adventuring, I won't argue. At least not too much, since it can't involve dragons or Dragon Priests, and I think we have a few promises yet to keep."

"We should start with the oldest, I think," Yssha said. "Back when we took those on, we were far less capable than we are now, so they should be the least dangerous." Which ought to reassure him, at least a bit.

"Good point, love. I'll go dig out our older notes, and we can decide from there. Give me a bit to find them."

* * *

Actually, Yssha was more interested in finding a private place to practice using her dragon body. But being alone for more than a few minutes could be difficult - was impossible, at home. A nice remote mountain peak would be ideal, but she wasn't aware of any that weren't already dragon lairs. The bandit and necromancer lairs she'd cleared were odds-on to have been reoccupied by now, even if they hadn't been too small for the kind of practice she needed. Even Skuldafn, while remote by most standards, was busy with construction or renovation, of dragon towers and their teams' living quarters mostly, for the moment. So where?

She got two answers almost simultaneously. _Stormhaven is yours, briinah. You need not be killed to go there, that's just the automatic way. All you have to do is simply will it,_ in Talos' familiar mental voice.

And something more like a normal voice, in an amused tone. "But it isn't really private, with Borri already there, and it is becoming less so. I find you fascinating, Bragonborn. I grant you a pocket universe in my Myriad Realms of Revelry, to be shaped as you desire. None will bother you there, or even know where you are. And since time is as malleable there as it is in Aetherius, you can get a lot of training accomplished in almost zero Nirn time. A day or week there can be a minute or years, Nirn time, as you desire."

 _Truly?_ Talos' mental voice now was focused on the Other, though Yssha could still "hear" it. _And why would a Daedric Prince make such a generous offer?_

"As I said, she fascinates and entertains Me. Also, My Realms can be warded against anyone, even you Divines, and I pledge not to intrude, except to show her how to alter it to her desire. So if she truly wishes privacy, I can give her more than anyone else."

 _And you are personally honest, despite what you may lure others into._ Talos gave a mental sigh.

 _He has a point_ , he told Yssha. _Ask him to swear on his Name, and you'll be safe._

"She need not ask," the Prince said, sounding a bit insulted. "I, Sanguine, called Lord of Debauchery, do swear freely, by My Own Name, to the Dragonborn Yssha of Family Marcurio in Clan Ysshaya that anything she may think, say, or do in the sub-Realm I give her will remain there. It will be her Sanctuary, and not even I will intrude, after showing her how to use it, unless asked. Anyone she invites is free to enter, of course."

 _Then it would be in your interest to accept,_ Talos sent. _I wouldn't normally recommend accepting a favor from a Daedric Prince, but in this case ..._

"In that case, I do." Yssha bowed, hoping both would take it as she intended. "It is most kind of you, Lord Sanguine."

She felt approval ... from both? ... and she was suddenly in a mountainous area reminiscent of the area above Ivarstead, climbing something that looked very much like the Seven Thousand Steps.

There were no wolves, ice wraiths, or frost trolls ... no High Hrothgar, either ... and no need to use Clear Skies to get to the summit. Once there, she saw Sanguine materialize, and bowed. "I thank you for this, Lord Sanguine."

"Most welcome, Dragonborn." He grinned. "This is your Sanctuary, one of my many thousands of Realms, and it's totally malleable to your will. I'll show you how to do that, then depart, never to return unless you ask. Of course, I hope you will, but that will be totally up to you."

Yssha blinked. "Totally malleable? Then ... a mirror, please? A very large mirror?"

Sanguine laughed. "You want to see your dragon form, do you? Of course." She sensed a manipulation, and understood it, then there was a mirror in front of her, larger than a Word Wall, and perfectly reflective.

She turned away, not wanting to actually watch her transformation, but when it was over, she eagerly turned back to see herself.

The huge golden dragon she faced made her flinch and back up a step, until the image did the same, then she reared up on her haunches and spread her wings, looking at the relatively tiny red-and-black Daedric Prince standing beside her. "Is that ... truly me?" she asked, awed.

"It is, Dovahkiin," Sanguine said, smiling. "I personally prefer your Khajiit form, but I'm sure your male vahriine, except Nevan, of course, will prefer your dovah form. Once you can handle it properly, of course."

Yssha took time to study herself in the mirror. She wasn't pure gold; she had bits of scarlet on her muzzle, wings, feet, and - when she turned - on her tail. But those were mere highlights; the over-all impression was that she was pure gold. Even her eyes were a clear amber.

"I thank you for that," she told Sanguine. "But I need this place mostly to practice handling my new body. So can you show me how to modify the terrain? I need high places to glide from, but climbing back to them to try again is a waste of traning time."

"As you wish, Dovahkiin. Though you need not climb; your teleport spell will work quite as well here as it does on Nirn."

* * *

The next time Sanguine and Malacath spoke, the Orcish Prince grinned at his counterpart. "It seems we find ourselves on the same side, Sanguine."

"Dovahkiin's, you mean?"

Malacath nodded. "I've been studying her, and I like what I'm seeing. She's strong and a wily fighter, enough so to defeat a couple of my chiefs bare-handed, which I wouldn't have thought possible. Believe it or not, she uses their size and strength _against_ them!"

Sanguine chuckled. "How else could one of the smaller Khajiiti types defeat an Orc without weapons or magic?" he asked rhetorically. "If you haven't already heard, there was one time she was fighting a Thalmor Justiciar. She couldn't reach anything above his waist, so she brought him down to her level by shoving her mace up between his legs."

Malacath looked surprised, then laughed. "And then cut his throat or something, eh?"

"Exactly," Sanguine said. "Then, when the Thalmor were all dead, she found a note on one of them that essentially said she was a kill-on-sight target. That was the first time Talos spoke to her."

"But hardly the last." Malacath sighed. "She's the oddest being I have ever encountered, I think. Though I must admit, the cat and dragon natures of her two sides do mesh astonishingly well."

"They do, don't they? I wonder if that's why Akatosh decided on a Khajiit Dragonborn instead of the Nord everyone expected." He shrugged, changing the subject. "What do you think of her less martial projects?"

"She champions the spurned and outcast, as I do," Malacath pointed out. "Sponsoring orphanages that take in beastfolk as well as men and mer, encouraging rights in Eastmarch for Dunmer and Argonians as well as her own Khajiit, restoring the Falmer the Dwemer betrayed and then destroyed ... she is, in all truth, what Akatosh forbids any of us to name her."

"To a lesser extent," Sanguine said slowly, "that's true of me, as well. Of course, I had Thalmor help during her captivity, but even without that, her feline and draconic sensuality were expressing themselves. Her only objection to bed-partners seems to be Argonians, and the physical differences there are so great, even I can't fault her. What their scales would do to her fur ... no, thanks."

Malacath chuckled. "Wanting to bed her yourself, my Lord of Debauchery?"

"Of course, especially given what Seridur has taught - and is teaching - her. But that's not going to happen until she's the one doing the inviting. Or at least until she's more comfortable interacting with Daedric Princes."

"Shouldn't take too long, then. A decade or three, maybe."

* * *

When Marcurio got back with his earliest journals, he was smiling. "Got one that should be very enjoyable for you, love, even if there's little or no danger. We need to head to the Temple of Mara in Riften, and speak to Maramar's wife, the Priestess Dinya Balu."

"Ah, yes, he did say something about her wanting us to spread Mara's Word." Yssha grimaced. "I just hope it does not involve handing out leaflets. But we will go there tomorrow, yes." She smiled. "I believe Maramal will be pleased to see my present, ah, 'condition'. And I do enjoy showing off our child, though he is yet unborn."

"That doesn't sound like anything we could help with," Serana said. "So if you don't mind, we'll go to Windstad, and I'll show Nevan a bit more about alchemy."

"And I'll try to get her a little less apprehensive about working with hot metal," Nevan countered.

Yssha chuckled. "You might want to try the jewelry workshop instead of the main forge, then. If there isn't enough precious metal, I'm sure one of you, at least, knows Transmutation, and there's iron ore in the main forge. Feel free to use any gems you want; they are Family property, of course, not exclusively mine."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Nevan said, and grinned.

* * *

When they entered the Temple of Mara, Maramal saw them almost immediately, and took Yssha's hands. "You are looking well, Dragonborn. Are you happy?"

"Very. This is something I have wished for a long time, but could not have until I defeated Alduin." She smiled. "Your wife the Priestess said I might be able to help others gain such joy. I would very much like to be able to do so, if she can tell me how."

Maramal smiled. "I'm sure she would be delighted, Ysmir! Come, join us for some freshly baked snowberry crostata and tisane."

"Happily," Yssha said, then she and Marcurio followed him into the tiny Temple apartment he shared with his wife.

Dinya greeted them with a smile. "Welcome, Dragonborn, Thane Marcurio. I'm pleased to see your prayers have been granted. When is your child due?"

"Priestess Danica estimates about mid-Frostfall," Yssha replied. "But she says she cannot be sure, since this is the first documented inter-species child, rather than inter-racial. So he could come earlier, if Khajiit genes determine it, or later, if Imperial."

Dinya served them still-hot crostata and tisane, then joined them. "Now, what do you wish of me?"

"When Maramal married us, he mentioned that we could help spread Mara's love, if we were willing." Yssha looked down at her swollen belly. "I would ... very much like to help others feel the joy Marcurio and I share. I was hoping you, as Mara's priestess, could guide us to someone who needs that aid."

"Of course I can ... Mara is always eager to aid those who wish to aid her. Let me meditate for a moment." She seemed to go into trance, then spoke in an odd tone. "Mara has reflected an image to me. At the foot of the Throat a young woman... almost a girl... her fickle love must resolve itself."

Then she seemed to return to herself to explain. "The village of Ivarstead. The woman, Fastred. This is the prayer heard by the goddess and relayed to her servants. Return when she has seen her path. I will entreat Mara on your behalf."

"We shall, and I thank you, Priestess." Yssha turned her attention to her tisane and crostata after smiling at Marcurio. Yes, this mission should be enjoyable.


	36. The Book of Love

.

Chapter 36 - The Book of Love

29 - 31 Last Seed, 5E 3

Yssha was pretty sure she'd met Fastred and her parents on her first trip to Ivarstead. At least the garden beside the house at Fellstar Farm was familiar, and yes, there was the woman she'd helped harvest some of the crops. When the woman saw her, she handed her hoe to another, younger, woman, and approached. "Dragonborn! It's good to see you again. But what are you doing back in this Divines-forsaken village?"

"Ah, Boti, if I remember correctly. I am here to speak with your daughter, Fastred, on Mara's behalf." Yssha smiled. "Ivarstead is not as forsaken as you seem to believe."

"You, Dragonborn?" Boti looked surprised. "I thought you served Talos and Akatosh, not Mara. Although - " she interrupted herself to grin - "she does seem to be showing you her favor. When are you due?"

"Priestess Danica estimates sometime in the middle of Frostfall, though she says that is only tentative."

Boti chuckled. "Whether a healer or midwife admits it or not, it always is. Well, Fastred's over there - still daydreaming about being an adventurer when she isn't mooning over Bassianus. Which means I keep having to remind her to get back to work. But I suppose I can't object to her talking to you, since Mara sent you."

"Thank you." Yssha smiled, going over to the younger woman. "Excuse me, Fastred? I am here on Mara's behalf - may I speak to you for a few minutes?"

Fastred turned to her eagerly. "She sent you, Dragonborn? That's wonderful!" Then she sighed. "My parents are being impossible. Bassianus wants to marry me. And I think I love him. But he wants to move away afterwards, and my father won't allow it. He only cares about this stupid town, but Bassianus makes me happier than anyone ever has. My mother's not any help, either."

Yssha cocked her head. "You sound confused, but then, that is why I am here."

"I don't want to choose! They're both so amazing. I ... would you talk to my parents, please? They'll listen to you!"

Yssha returned to Boti. "Fastred asked that I speak with you and her father."

"Oh my. Probably something about the men." Boti sighed. "We all wish we had her problems. Now, don't tell my husband, but I don't have any problem with Bassianus. Even if it means her leaving Ivarstead, I want Fastred to be happy. If they just snuck out of town together, I could manage my husband."

That was good to know, if it was Bassianus she decided to back, though she hadn't been favorably impressed with him during her first visit. "What would enable them to leave Ivarstead, then?"

"Bassianus is still so terrified of Jofthor. If he knew that I'd keep him from hunting the poor boy down, he'd take Fastred to Riften without a second thought. Let him know that I'll watch out for them. I just want my daughter to be happy."

Riften. Yssha had been afraid that would be their destination. Any other city in Skyrim would be better! It would probably be improving under Jarl Mjoll, but for now, it was still the worst place in the province to raise a family.

Well, she still had to talk to Fastred's father, who was grinding wheat at his small mill, so she went over and repeated Fastred's request.

Jofthor sighed heavily. "I'm sure I know what this is about. She thinks she's in love with Bassianus and wants to leave town. With him. Let me tell you how I see it. Until a few months ago, the girl was head over heels for Klimmek. Wouldn't stop talking about him. Now if I thought she was really in love with Bassianus, that would be one thing. But she's a child. It will pass."

He shook his head. "You know how children are. Her fancies change with the moon. And like always, that Klimmek lacks any kind of spine. He'll need some convincing. A little push and this would all be simpler."

Yssha nodded, deciding she needed to find out more about Bassianus. She had a soft spot for Klimmek, delivering supplies to the Greybeards, without any pay for it, until Family Marcurio had taken over that responsibility, but she felt a need to decide on the basis of more facts than that.

Which turned out to be easier than she expected, when she went to the Vilemyr Inn to talk to Wilhelm, because Klimmek and Bassianus were arguing. She ordered a glass of small ale and took a seat to one side to listen.

Klimmek was sounding irritable. "We're behind again. I need you to catch another two bushels by week's end if I'm to make another delivery."

Bassianus shook his head. "Blood from a stone, Klimmek. I've been out there every morning. They just aren't biting."

"Come on," Klimmek said impatiently. "Everyone in town knows that you spend more time with Fastred or in here talking to people than you do fishing in the river."

"That's none of your business and I'd appreciate if you wouldn't mention it again."

"It is my business, and I'll mention it again if I have to." Klimmek sighed. "As I remember things, it was you that showed up at my doorstep looking for a job and a place to live. Try and remember that."

"Uh, yeah." Bassianus had the grace to look a bit ashamed, but that didn't improve Yssha's opinion, and the argument settled her mind. Bassianus, who seemed more than a bit irresponsible, and wanted to take his prospective wife somewhere he'd have no job and no place to live? No.

Granted, Klimmek was older, but he had a home and an established business ... and he'd been Fastred's love until Bassianus showed up. He would provide Fastred and any children with a stable home in a far better place to raise a family.

So when he finished his meal and left the inn, she followed him. Once they got to the bridge where she'd taken the pack of supplies to deliver for him, she caught his attention. "Klimmek, a moment of your time, if I may?"

He turned, startled. "Yes, Dragonborn? What is it?"

"I understand you were courting Fastred before Bassianus arrived in town?"

He looked downcast at that. "Oh, Fastred. I'm not sure what happened. One moment she's smiling at me, the next I can't even meet her eyes. I'll bet Bassianus would know what's going on. He understands women."

Yssha chuckled. It looked like she would have to follow Jofthor's advice, and give Klimmek a bit of a hint. "Perhaps you are being too passive. Fastred seems to prefer more assertive men."

He frowned, clearly not understanding. "What did you call me?"

She shook her head. "No, no, I meant no insult." He was a fisherman in a small village; clearly, she would have to be plainer. "I am simply suggesting that some women prefer a direct approach. Perhaps if you are more bold, she would respond better?"

He looked blank for a moment, then said, "Wait ... you mean I should just ... tell her? Tell her how I feel?"

"What do you have to lose?" she asked bluntly.

And Marcurio, who'd been silent until then, grinned. "Faint heart never won fair lady, as the old saying goes."

Klimmek stared at the two, then exclaimed, "Ysmir's beard, you're right, both of you! No fish was ever caught by staying away from the shore. I'm off to see her!"

They followed him, catching up as he approached the girl and began speaking.

"Fastred, I have something to say to you."

She looked puzzled, but replied. "Klimmek? What is it?"

"I don't want you to leave Ivarstead."

Fastred frowned, still puzzled. "Why not?"

"Because ... I would miss you."

"But I thought you only cared about your fishing!" Fastred was smiling now.

"What good are fish if you have to eat them alone?" Klimmek asked softly, holding his arms out

Fastred went to him. "Oh, Klimmek ... "

Yssha and Marcurio left as the two embraced.

* * *

When the two returned to Riften and reported to Dinya, the priestess was delighted. "How wonderful. Like the sea, their love roils and swells, but brings life and nourishment to all."

"That was most enjoyable," Yssha said. "Would the Lady Mara have other similar missions we could carry out?"

Dinya smiled widely. "I see you are eager to carry the light." She paused briefly, then continued in what Yssha thought of as her "trance" voice. "As you venture, Mara fills my mind ever more with visions of love in peril. Embers lie nestled in stone, needing only fuel to bloom to a flame that will warm all around them."

Then she interpreted her vision. "Go to Markarth. There you'll find Calcelmo, wise, acid, and reclusive. Help him to emerge and state his intentions. This is the prayer heard by the goddess and relayed to her servants."

"I have met Calcelmo several times. I will be most happy to help him - but I am surprised to hear he is in Markarth. I would have expected to find him in Nchardak with Neloth or down in Blackreach. I thank Lady Mara for saving me wasted trips."

"She is happy to help those who are willing to help her," Dinya said calmly. "Now go, child, and bring these two together."

Since they knew he was in Markarth, they had no trouble finding Calcelmo. She and Marcurio made enough noise approaching that instead of being startled, he turned to face them. At first, his expression was impatient and irritated, but when he recognized them, he smiled. "Dovahkiin, Thane Marcurio - to what do I owe the honor?"

"We are here on Mara's behalf," Yssha replied, returning the smile. "The question here is how we may help you."

Calcelmo's face lit up. "I was beginning to lose faith that any help would come. Eh ... You see ... I've been thinking about Faleen quite a bit. You know Faleen?"

"The name and that she is Jarl Igmund's housecarl, yes. Beyond that, I am afraid not."

"Well, suffice to say she is resplendent, but not without resolve. Striking, in all senses." He looked positively besotted, Yssha though with amusement, until he continued. "The trouble is that I can't seem to speak around her. My mouth goes dry, and I start to shake. I could never hope to approach her."

"Sounds to me like you just need something to talk about," Marcurio said.

"That's the trouble. I only know Faleen from the Keep, so I have no idea what sorts of things she likes. It's not a simple matter. I could offend her fairly easily by bringing up the wrong subject. I've seen it happen before."

"Are you sure you are not overthinking this?" Yssha asked.

"That may be the case," Calcelmo admitted. "But she is as volatile as a sabre cat. One wrong word, and I've seen her turn on a man so quickly ... "

"I believe I see the problem." Yssha thought for a moment. "Hmm. Is there anyone who would know what she likes?"

"There is one... Yngvar. He's quite popular with the ladies. Thankfully Faleen is not quite his type, but they've been friends for some time, and he may have some ideas. Please, ask him what she likes. It's my only chance."

"We will do our best for you, then."

* * *

When they found Yngvar lounging on the steps of Markarth's eastern side, and she asked, he grinned. "Not for you two, obviously. Mind telling me who the would-be suitor is?"

"It is no secret, since it is he who sent us to you. It is Calcelmo."

"Calcelmo? Is he interested in Faleen?" Yngvar grinned. "That sly old codger. I should have guessed. Good for him. For the both of them. Between you and me, she could use a bit of warmth." He paused briefly. "As for what she might like ... I didn't tell you this. Faleen likes to act tough, but she really has a soft spot for, of all things, poetry. You know, I took some classes at the Bards College as a youth. Poems come in handy when wooing. There's a poem I once used on an older lady of Rorikstead. I can change it to be about Faleen, if you've got some gold. Are you prepared to receive my golden words?"

"Certainly, at College rates. With, perhaps, a bonus if your golden words convince her to speak to him."

"Done, Ysmir. Two hundred gold, given the length; bonus at your discretion, if it works."

"Agreed. How long?" She handed over the initial payment.

"Wonderful. I'll write it out so you won't forget it. You should probably just take this directly to Faleen. Wouldn't want the old icebrain stumbling over the words."

"Why don't you have a drink at the inn? I should have it written by then. Just meet me back here."

* * *

As promised, Yngvar had the poem scribed when they headed back up to Understone Keep. Stopping briefly at Vlindrel Hall, Yssha and Marcurio read it.

"Not the best I've seen," Marcurio said. "Might do the job if she's no critic, though, and since she's not going to be expecting a Dwemer researcher to be a poet at all ... "

"It seems rather weak for a College-trained bard," Yssha agreed. "But I agree, it may work."

"Let's deliver it, then, and see what happens."

In the throne room of Understone Keep, Yssha bowed to Jarl Igmund. "May I speak to your housecarl for a moment, my Jarl?"

"Of course, Ysmir. Faleen?"

"My Jarl." Faleen turned to Yssha. "Yes, Ysmir?"

"My friend Calcelmo asked me to bring you a missive, since I was coming here." She handed over the poem."

Faleen read it, her expression going from puzzled to pleased. "I thank you, Ysmir. Would you mind taking him my reply?"

Yssha saw Igmund start to object, and shook her head with a twitch of her ears. "I would be pleased to, housecarl."

Faleen grabbed a scrap of parchment and a pen, scribbling a brief note. "Thank you. I know I shouldn't be using you as a messenger, but - "

"Say no more - it is a pleasure to do a favor for a friend." She took the note, and she and Marcurio headed back to the excavation site. When they got there, she handed him the note. "This is from Faleen."

He reached for it, not quite grabbing it out of her hand, and unfolded it, then beamed. "This is... more than I could have hoped for. Have you really done this for me? I have to see her. Please, excuse me."

He dropped the note, hurrying out of the excavation. Yssha retrieved and read it, then grinned at Marcurio. "We owe Yngvar his bonus." She handed the note over, then sprinted for the Throne Room.

"My Dearest Calcelmo,

"I always knew you to possess a great mind, but your charming poem revealed a depth of feeling I never suspected.

"I'll admit to being a bit surprised at the direction of your feelings, but not unpleasantly so. Let us meet to discuss further.

"Yours,

"Faleen"

When they made it, Yssha grinned to find Calcelmo almost speechless.

"Faleen... I..."

Faleen soothed him. "Sssh. It's all right. You don't need to say any more. I had no idea you were so ... nuanced."

Calcelmo murmured, almost too softly for even a Khajiit's hearing, "I love you."

Faleen smiled. "So I hear. Come here, you."

As they embraced, Yssha and Marcurio left, smiling, stopping to deliver an extra hundred septims to Yngvar, who accepted with a grin. "It worked, then. Good!"

* * *

When Yssha and Marcurio reported success to Dinya, the priestess congratulated them. "The goddess smiles at your efforts, children. The dawn shines bright upon you. You have seen the young, fickle love of youth, and helped a more seasoned love find its way.

"There is one final aspect we wish for you to explore. For a strong love can withstand storms and even survive death. Take this symbol of Mara." She handed Yssha an Amulet of Mara. "She will guide you to the wandering souls of two whose love was so great that their entwinement binds them to this world."

The promised guidance led them to Gjukar's Monument, southeast of Rorikstad, where they found the ghost of a woman wandering the ancient battlefield.

When they approached her, she spoke to them. "I'm searching for my Fenrig. He was marching with Gjukar's men, who they say were wiped out here. I've turned over every body, though, and I can't find him. Please help me look. He has a bright red beard and hair."

"I am sorry," Yssha said. "I see nothing but the monument - no traces of a battle, and certainly no bodies."

The woman looked angry, and sounded that way as well. "Are you a fool? Look at the bodies around you. Even if you're blind, surely you must smell the blood."

Yssha looked at Marcurio. "Do you see something I am missing, beloved?"

He shook his head. "The only battle I know of here was hundreds of years ago."

"I don't have time for your foolishness," the woman snapped. "Either help me or be gone." She sighed, then added, "Come, help me search for must be here somewhere ... "

Yssha felt a tugging from the amulet, and followed it, calling back. "We go to seek him a bit further away. We will return."

Perhaps half an hour later, they were at what Marcurio said was the site where Gjukar's forces had camped the night before the battle. There was a ghostly soldier walking around.

They walked up to him, and Yssha asked, "Fenrig?"

The ghost nodded. "I am. Why do you ask?"

"Because a woman is searching for you on a plain not too far away."

He looked puzzled. "Ruki? Where is she?"

Yssha described the field, and he nodded. "We're expected to fight there tomorrow. Gjukar elected to camp here for the night. I don't like it, though."

"Perhaps if you return with us, and speak to Ruki, she will be able to clarify things?"

He nodded. "If she's come this far from home, it must be important. Lead on. I just need to report back to camp by sunrise."

They had to avoid a mammoth herd on the way back, but otherwise, it was simply a matter of getting the two ghosts within sight of each other. When that happened, Ruki ran up, a wide smile on her face, : "Fenrig! You're alive!"

"Of course I am," he replied, embracing her. "What brings you here?"

"I had heard that Gjukar's men were wiped out. I came to find you."

Fenrig was clearly puzzled. "But that battle isn't expected until tomorrow ... Ruki, what's going on?"

Ruki shook her head. "I'm so confused. What's happening?"

Fenrig tried to reassure her, hugging her more closely. "It doesn't matter. I'm here. We're together now. And we will be forever."

Still embracing, they floated skyward until they vanished in the distance.

Yssha turned to her husband. "Our task here is obviously complete. Let me call Odahviing, and we can return to Priestess Dinya."

This time, Dinya was waiting at the altar when they entered the temple, smiling at their approach. "Your efforts have helped illuminate the entire province. I trust by now you've achieved a higher comprehension of love. Carry the blessings of Mara with you, so the rest of the province may shine with her glories."

Yssha felt a warmth similar to what she'd sensed when she'd been given the Cloak of Nocturnal, and checked herself, to find her resistance to hostile magic had increased. She bowed to the priestess. "I thank Lady Mara for her blessing, and you for your assistance in explaining her will to me."

Dinya smiled. "Should you wish to serve Lady Mara again, simply return, and I'm sure she'll have more you can do."


	37. Flying Lessons I

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Chapter 37 - Flying Lessons I

01 Heartfire, 5E 3

Yssha asked Odahviing to take her and her usual team to Monahven, then asked Paarthurnax to Call Durnehviir to bring Andreius and Sorcalin for a brief conference.

When everyone was there, she looked around at them. "You are all aware of my, ah, new ability to shift into dovah form. But I have not yet mentioned a recent ... I am not quite sure what to call it. I wished a private place to practice, and both my brother Dragonborn the Divine Talos and Prince Sanguine replied."

That got exclamations of disbelief, and a heated discussion, going until Paarthurnax roared. "Let her speak!" When they quieted, he asked, "And what happened?"

"It was odd," Yssha said slowly. "My zeymah reminded me of Stormhaven, and Sanguine pointed out that it was already becoming less private. He offered me a sub-universe in his Myriad Realms of Revelry, with absolute privacy, even from him, and Talos recommended that I accept. So I did. And I plan to be spending time there, learning to handle my dovah body."

She paused, taking a deep breath. "Sanguine told me time is malleable in that realm. I do not yet know if I will take advantage of that, because I must be cautious of my child, and do not wish to miss my weekly check-ups with Priestess Danica, nor do I wish to distort the timing ... but if I vanish for hours at a time, I wish you not to worry, since I will simply be practicing."

"And if you're asked to do anything here in Nirn?" Marcurio asked.

"I will let you determine that, beloved." Yssha smiled at her husband. "I enjoyed our errands for Mara, so if the Divines ask anything, and it is at all possible, I would interrupt my training to help. But mortal requests are probably better handled by the Skyguard, or one of you, at least for now."

"Okay. So just try to be away during the times we'd normally be 'at work', and we'll cover for you." Marcurio grinned. "Learn quickly, dearling. I don't know how long we'll be able to make excuses for our leader being away."

"I know, beloved. I will be as quick as I can. I do have six weeks of flying by proxy, in my soul-guests' memories, so I already have an excellent theoretical background. I am hoping that it translates into the practical realm without too much difficulty, though I am certain there will be some."

"Home, then - we don't have anything planned for the day, so there won't be any excuses necessary. Mostly, I suppose, you can be 'working on your crafting at Windstad Manor', unless there's an emergency."

"If there is, - hmm. A moment, spoke, apparently to the air. "Prince Sanguine? A question, if I may."

Sanguine appeared, in his Sam Guevenne form. "Certainly. What is it, Dovahkiin?"

"I wish my teams to be able to contact me in case of emergency. Is it possible for them to use a spell like Join Person to contact me in Sanctuary?"

Sanguine shrugged, then chuckled. "There are no barriers to mortals - what you call vodov - entering Oblivion. If you want such a spell to reach you in Sanctuary, it will be so. As I said, it's your mini-realm, and if you want them to have access, they will."

"Thank you. I do. And ... you may also enter, if and when you wish, so long as you do not interfere with my training." She paused, and chuckle-purred. "You said I entertain you, Prince - I daresay, you might find my initial attempts at true flight rather amusing, and I feel I owe you that much for your kindness."

"Not necessary, but I do appreciate it, and yes, I'll watch. I may not be able to keep from laughing, though."

Yssha's ears twitched at that. "It would hardly be the first time I have been laughed at, attempting a new physical or magical skill. I will take no offense."

Sanguine chuckled. "With your permission, I'll bring Malacath as well. After your mission on his behalf, he's developed a certain respect for you."

Yssha nodded. "And he is a canny warrior. Although he is ground-bound, once I begin combat training as a dov, he may be able to help me with tactics." She turned to her team. "I would like you for that as well, Nevan. As I recall from our early conversations, you have had much experience with airborne combat."

The Sandeman grinned, his eyes bright. "I'd like that, thuri. Sure, I'll be there."

* * *

Yssha's first "workday" in Sanctuary was the kind of boring practice she remembered from her initial combat training. Instead of hacking at pells with a wooden sword, having her stance and strikes corrected after every blow, she glided repeatedly from the top of Sanctuary's version of Monahven, trying to land at various points her internal instructor, Mirmulnir, pointed out to her.

After maybe a dozen failed tries, Lokmoroyol nudged him aside. _You are egg-heavy, thuru,_ she sent. _You must compensate for that in a way no male can understand. Try again, feeling the way I guide you._

Yssha agreed, then launched herself toward her first target, this time adjusting as Lokmoroyol guided her. So this time she landed on target, if a little clumsily, and let out a happy gout of fire. "Can we try again? That felt so much better!"

 _Of course. Teleport back to the top, and this time I will show you how to make a claws-first landing despite the extra bulk in your abdomen_.

Yssha did as she was told, launching herself when Lokmoroyol said to. _Good. Practice banking left and right on the way down, keeping your nose slightly higher than usual_. When she was about a hundred feet above the ground, Lokmoroyol gave more detailed instructions. _Now arch your back - a bit more - and cup your wings like so -_ a quick mental picture _\- so you slow down and descend without going into a stall_.

About five or six feet up, Lokmoroyol sent final instructions. _Flap your wings once, while pushing your talons forward past the egg-bulge. ... Excellent!_

Yssha wouldn't have gone that far, because it wasn't the gentle touch-down she'd seen - and shared - so often. It was harder, and she stumbled forward, having to catch herself with her wing-joints, but it was her first semi-successful upright landing, and she was pleased with it. "Again, please?"

 _Certainly. You are eager for a real flight, but wise enough to know you must be able to land well, first_. Lokmoroyol paused. _Is it difficult, learning this after so much time in a vodov body? We are born or hatched with the ability, but your body has been so different for so many years_...

Yssha had to think about that. "It is nowhere near as easy as 'remembering' Dovahzul, but thanks to sharing memories with those of you within me for six weeks, it is more like ... trying to get back into fighting trim after my captivity. I know what has to be done, but actually trying to do it is ... awkward, rather than as smooth as it should be. Practice is the only way to cure that, so I would like to continue."

* * *

Yssha was almost ready to quit when she felt a spell focused on her, and Marcurio joined her atop Sanctuary's Monahven, along with Sanguine and Malacath. "What is it, beloved?"

"You said time was malleable here, so we decided one of us should remind you when our regular workday was over. It's about an hour till suppertime. How did it go?"

"Well indeed," Malacath replied. "She is a warrior worthy of emulation. She has trained hard all day, and her improvement is visible. A worthy Blood-Kin, even by the harshest standards I might apply."

Sanguine chuckled. "My colleague has rather different standards from mine, of course. But I agree, she worked hard. So now she should relax. I hope you'll see to that, Mage."

Marcurio was a bit nonplussed, but he bowed. "I intend to, Lord Prince."

Yssha smiled at Sanguine. "Did I entertain you, Prince Sanguine? I was certainly clumsy enough!"

Sanguine studied her. "Clumsy at points, yes, Dovahkiin. And I did get a few chuckles. But you are far too concentrated on your studies for much entertainment here." He grinned. "Let me feed you a couple of tankards of mead before you practice, and it'd be different. But I promised not to interfere, so I won't slip you anything."

Yssha returned the grin. "And I was told you are personally honest, so I believe you. My greats-grandmother warned me against dealings with any of you Princes, but I begin to think she was overly cautious."

Sanguine looked unnaturally serious. "She was not. Dovahkiin, you must be cautious about most Princes. Azura, Meridia, and Hircine have your friends as Champions, so they are safe. Malacath and I are on your side out of respect. The rest ... be cautious. And fear Mehrunes Dagon, Mephala, Molag Bal, and Vaermina. Herma-mora is ... mostly neutral at the moment, I believe."

"What of the others?" Yssha asked.

Sanguine shrugged. "Neutral, for whatever reason any of them has. Sheo is crazy, of course. Boethiah, Namira, and Peryite don't care about you one way or the other. Clavicus thinks you might be amusing, and Nocturnal's mildly grateful to you for returning the Skeleton Key, but otherwise disinterested."

"Thank you. It could be far worse, then." She bowed politely. "I will return tomorrow. For now, I must eat and rest."

* * *

The next day was more landing practice, but now not simple gliding to land on flat ground. Lokmoroyol had her create obstacles around where she was to land, and things she had to land on - perches, imitation Word Walls, irregular hilltops, rocky areas, even a dragon tower and a mock-up of Dragonsreach's Great Porch.

"What're you doing?" Sanguine asked curiously.

"My instructor - Lokmoroyol, one of the dragon souls I have absorbed - wishes me to practice more difficult landings today, so I am shaping different things, with and without obstacles."

"Obstacles you know, since you're creating them." Sanguine grinned, looking suddenly mischievous. "How about if I take care of that, and your instructor teaches you how to cope with things you don't know in advance?"

Yssha was a bit apprehensive when Lokmoroyol agreed enthusiastically, but she passed it along to Sanguine. "She thinks that an excellent idea, but asks that you not make the first obstacles too difficult for a novice flyer."

Sanguine nodded. "Believe it or not, I've done quite a bit of training in my time, and I'm pretty good at evaluating a student's readiness."

"Very well." Yssha closed her eyes. "She says to go ahead." While she waited for the magical energies he emitted to subside, she couldn't help wondering. Who would a Daedric Prince train, why, and in what? That didn't seem to fit anything she knew about them.

* * *

04-Sep-16

"You can open your eyes now," Sanguine said, sounding amused. "I think you'll find this a challenge, but not an excessive one."

He was ouite right, Yssha discovered quickly. There was a trick to landing on anything other than flat ground, starting with a perch like the ones at Skuldafn. First, you had to plan an approach to your intended landing spot, which turned out not to always be as easy as it looked. The dragon towers were easiest, since they were deliberatealy situated above anything close enough to be an obstacle.

Even there, though, and with the previous day's practice at talon-first landings, it was tricky to judge altitude accurately enough to settle gently and seize hold with her talons. Once that was accomplished, she could relax, since her talons would remain closed even if she fell asleep.

Once she was able to land reliably on dragon towers and planned perches, it became more difficult, as she was sent to irregular terrain, including areas she had to approach through obstacles that would have caught her wings if she approached directly.

By the time Marcurio appeared to call her for supper, she was both physically and mentally exhausted, but before she left, she landed near Sanguine. "Something you said earlier intrigued me, Prince Sanguine. You said you have done a lot of training. May I ask who, and what subject or subjects?"

The Daedra studied the dovah for a long moment, then shook his head. "Other than the obvious whores and brewers, I don't think so, at least not just yet. I _am_ the Lord of Debauchery, and despite what you've been through, I don't think you really want to know exactly what that means. Especially since your brother Talos cautioned me against involving you in my relatively harmless drinking game. Maybe in a few millennia, if you're still curious."

Marcurio surprised himself with a grateful smile at the Daedric Prince. "Thank you for that, Lord Sanguine."

Sanguine nodded to him. "I have absolutely no desire to harm your wife in any way, Battlemage, physically or mentally, and I'm convinced that telling her anything about my ... less savory ... inclinations and instructions would at the very least upset her quite badly."

Yssha's breath caught. Lord Sanguine was helpful and friendly to her, but yes, his reputation wasn't exactly the best. "Then perhaps I should be grateful as well," she said. "Will I see you for tomorrow's lesson?"

"Certainly," he said with a smile. "Unless Lokmoroyol has some surprises, I'm guessing your landings are up to her standards, so she may let you start learning true flight, and I wouldn't miss that willingly."

 _You may tell him he is correct_ , Lokmoroyol sent. _And you will want to bring Nevan and a physical dragon along._

Yssha passed the message along, then she and Marcurio left for home.


	38. Attack on Faal Mungrohiik

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Chapter 38 - Attack on Faal Mungrohiik

Anvil, 01-02 Heartfire

While Yssha was in her Oblivion realm of Sanctuary learning to control her dragon body well enough to land on anything, anywhere, Andreius and his party made a quick side trip on dragon-neck to Anvil. Before they started their tour of Cyrodiil after Grams' funeral, he wanted a quiet visit to his sister's grave on the cliffs north of the city, and Sorcalin wanted to visit Garlas Agea, an Ayleid ruin that tended to attract necromancers.

But before either of them could take on their personal expeditions, Andreius had to provide alternate security for Imiril and Arenim. As General Hargan, he could have ordered a Legion or Penitus Oculatus bodyguard, but since they were trying to remain incognito, he decided against that.

So, after renting rooms at the Count's Arms Inn, he visited the Fighters Guild. Everyone he'd known here had died long ago, but at least the physical layout was the same, so he had no problem finding the Master of the Anvil Fighters Guild branch. He introduced himself as Andreius of Skyhold, which got a grin.

"Skyhold - that's one of the counties up in Skyrim, right? Belongs to the Dragonborn?"

"Close enough," Andreius replied with a grin. "Anyway, I'm here on a personal pilgrimage, but I have a couple of young Altmer along, and I'd like to hire a combination of guide and bodyguard to show them around the city and make sure they don't get into any trouble."

"How young?" the Master asked dubiously. "My people don't babysit."

Andreius laughed. "Not that young - they're both mid-twenties, and a married couple. They can protect themselves, but they don't know Cyrodiil customs or courtesies."

"We can do that. I'm Corinus, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you, Corinus. It looks like the Guild's doing well. So - how much is this going to cost me?"

The Master thought for a bit. "Sounds more like guide service than bodyguard, since you say they can defend themselves, so ... you want one, or two?"

"One should be adequate, I think."

"Twenty-five septims, then. Where should they meet up, and is there anything you want your your young tourists shown?

"At the Count's Arms, first thing in the morning, and I think a tour of where the Champion of Cyrodiil visited would be appropriate, since we'll be attending her funeral."

That got him an odd look from the Master, but no comments. "Very well. Mission accepted."

Andreius handed over the agreed price. "Thank you." Then the four headed for the Count's Arms to spend the evening. Once they were well settled over supper, and had their plans settled for the following day, Andreius smiled at the two young Altmer. "It's not commonly known, but I met Grams just outside Anvil."

"Really?" Imiril asked. "Tell us, please!"

"It started when Count Umbranox called me in and told me the Hero of Kvatch had arrived, and would like some soldiers to go into our Oblivion Gate with her, both to show them how to close others themselves, and to cover her back. So he asked me to pick half a dozen of the steadiest and best fighters and lead them in with her.

"The first part was easy, since I knew the men, and we came here to meet her. She stood when we approached, and I must admit I was taken aback. It was common knowledge, of course, that the Hero of Kvatch was a female Khajiit, so that part wasn't surprising, but from the stories I'd heard of her, I suppose I was unconsciously expecting a Cathay-Raht, maybe one as physically imposing as a Nord."

He laughed. "You've met the Dragonborn, so you know what I got; they're close enough in looks to be mistaken for each other. I was _not_ expecting a Suthay, second-smallest of the Khajiit types! And it must've shown in my face as we made introductions, because she cat-grinned at me."

"'What gave me away, the Kvatch armor?' she asked, and I swear she'd have laughed if Khajiit had been capable of it.

"That, and the fact you're a female Khajiit, Lady Ysshaya." I didn't mention my surprise at her size. "I understand you want us for backup and to show us how to close these Gates."

"'Correct, Sir Knight,' she said, sobering. 'You could learn how on your own - others have - but I'm trying to teach at least the City Guards how to do it, so they have fewer losses in the learning.'"

"I appreciate that," I told her, and I did. "Would you brief us on what to expect, then?"

"She did. I don't remember more than an outline, but it was very thorough, and even without the practical exercise as soon as she was done, it would've saved a lot of lives."

Andreius grimaced. "I pray I never see the Deadlands again. I understand some realms of Oblivion can be pleasant, like Azura's Moonshadow, but the Deadlands are the sort of frightening, dangerous, and ... let's just say unpleasant ... place most people mean when they use it as a curse word."

"He sighed. "I don't remember too many of the details, thank the Divines - the 'fog of war' is far worse in the Deadlands than in Tamriel. She pointed out how to identify the target tower, and I do remember having to go through tunnels to reach it, fighting all the way. Then we fought our way up to the top of that tower, and she had me grab the Sigil Stone that powered the Gate. When I did, it vanished in a flash, and we were back on the outskirts of Anvil, fortunately with no fatalities, though most of us needed healing."

* * *

Nearby, Hrolf Sharp-Ear was paying close attention while doing his best to look only semi-conscious from drink. He'd gotten a slight scent of wet dog from the older Altmer, which made him extremely interested in their plans for the following day. It looked like the werewolf would not only be alone and out of the city most of the day, he'd likely be passing close to the Fort Strand hideout of the Silver Hand band Hrolf belonged to.

Eventually the four strangers said good night and headed to their rooms. As soon as they were gone, Hrolf made his way to the barman and settled his tab, then headed for Fort Strand to report.

"Got a werewolf at the Count's Arms," he said, as soon as he got to the Great Dome where the rest of the band was gathered. "He's an Altmer mage, traveling with an Imperial who looks like a spellsword and a married Altmer and Odmer couple. He's planning to go to Carlas Agea tomorrow, alone, and maybe stop at the Wayshrine of Akatosh on the way."

Quintius, the band's leader, frowned. "An Altmer mage, and traveling with an Imperial spellsword? I'm not sure we ought to tackle that one without more men."

"Why?" one of the others asked. "We've got two mages of our own, and we've taken out over a dozen of the beasts already. What's one more, especially if we catch him in his mer form?"

"Because from Hrolf''s description," Quintius said, "that could be Faal Mungrohiik. If it is, and he's able to change before we kill him, I don't give us good odds at all."

"So we set up an ambush in the rocks just outside the ruins and hit him with arrows and spells as he's entering. We don't give him time to change."

"Ummm." Quintius frowned. "That might actually work," he said thoughtfully. "It'd mean traveling tonight to be in position by morning, but ... all right, we'll give it a try. Taking out Faal Mungrohiik would be a real achievement, true enough."

Hrolf chuckled. "Not that we'd be able to tell anyone but other Silver Hands about it, given he's been named Friend of the Empire."

"True as well, but you know it'll eventually get out." Quintius shrugged. "Well, get ready, and we'll move out. The moons'll be bright enough to see where we're going, if not to make final arrangements."

* * *

The Silver Hands were in position by midnight, and after setting first-shift sentries, they took turns getting some sleep. All were awake at first light for a cold breakfast, speaking in no more than murmurs. No one expected the werewolf to even leave Anvil until dawn at the earliest, but why take chances?

They took up position and settled in before full light. Given the terrain, the only reasonable approach - unless he suspected something, which no one thought likely - was from the southwest. So one archer and both mages were hidden in the rocks that covered that approach, the other two archers and all the melee fighters in the rocks and woods by Carlas Agea's first archway.

* * *

Sorcalin had seen his companions off to their own activities after a leisurely breakfast before he set out on his own investigation of Carlas Agea, otherwise known as the Cavern of Secrets. He didn't expect to find treasure, but those who explored ruins often overlooked something more important, namely knowledge in the form of carvings, or - rarely - metal-paged books, usually engraved in characters too tiny to read without magical or optical enlargement. If he were extremely lucky, he might find one of those, even though it was too much to really hope for.

It was too nice a day to hurry, so he took his time, enjoying the mild weather - especially in comparison to Skyrim's! - the smells, the birdsong, occasionally pausing for a bit of cloud-watching.

But when he neared the rock formation just south of Carlas Agea's first arch, he sensed a movement in the magical field that meant someone was charging spells. Over two centuries as a Master let him determine they were Expert-level Destruction spells, and it didn't take a genius to deduce they'd be aimed at him.

He and his wolf agreed that a bit of action before exploring an Ayleid ruin would probably be fun, so he shifted, then wolf-grinned as his enchanted armor dissipated the spells being thrown against him. He loped toward the rock formation, sniffing out the foes. The first he encountered was a mage with another spell almost ready to cast, so he wasted no time, crushing her head with his powerful jaws. The next he could take a bit more time with, so he stabbed this one in the gut with his claws, his wolf savoring the mage's look of horror as Sorcalin raised him above his head, then tossed him to one side.

The archer tried to run, but had no chance against Faal Mungrohiik's strength or speed. Ripping the man's arms off was inelegant but effective, and he took a few seconds to devour one of them before following the sound of people in armor trying to escape.

He enjoyed himself. Silver Hands were always fun to kill, even if not much of a challenge except when they were trying mass attacks rather than fleeing. Once he was satisfied he'd caught all of them, and had a satisfying meal, he shifted back and returned to his original purpose of exploring Carlas Agea.

He found nothing but a couple of carvings he'd not seen records of, which he sketched, then returned to Anvil. It was late afternoon when he arrived at the main gate, and spoke to the guard on duty. "I need to speak to your Captain. Could you tell me where he is?"

Normally the guard would have asked why, but he wasn't about to interfere in a Master Mage's business. "This time of day, he'll be doing paperwork in his office at the Castle Barracks, sir."

"Thank you." Sorcalin made his way to the Castle Barracks, where he was directed to the Captain's office. When he was admitted, the Gaptain looked tired. "Yes? What can I do for you, Master Mage - ?"

Sorcalin sighed. He'd really prefer not to reveal his identity, but he doubted the Captain would let him get away with that. "I'm traveling incognito, for reasons of Imperial security. I need to report a number of dead Silver Hands near Carlas Agea,"

"What? What happened?" the Captain exclaimed

"They attacked me, and I defended myself," Sorcalin replied "I'm afraid I made a meal from a couple of them, but their armor and equipment are still there. The Anvil Guard can have that."

The Captain looked puzzled. "You're admitting you're a werewolf, and pointing me to your victims? But ... " His puzzlement turned to a grin. "There's only one who'd admit that to a Guard Captain. Don't worry, Master Mage; I'll keep your secret. It's a pleasure to meet you, though, sir."

Sorcalin returned the grin, and nodded. "Very astute of you, but this is under Imperial Top Security, understood? At least until several days after we leave."

The Captain nodded. "Of course, my Lord. You were never here, for at least a month."

"Thank you for your understanding." Sorcalin gave the Captain an honest smile, and left.


	39. Flying Lessons II

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Chapter 39 - Flying Lessons II

Yssha was eager for her first lessons in true flying, now that Lokmoroyol was satisfied with her landings. As instructed, she brought Nevan and Odahviing with her. Sanguine and Malacath were waiting to greet them. "What's on today's agenda?" Sanguine asked.

"Lokmoroyol wishes Odahviing to demonstrate all a dovah's normal flight maneuvers," Yssha replied. "Then I will try to repeat them, after getting used to the freedom of the air. Once I am good enough at our routine maneuvers, Nevan will see if we can adapt any maneuvers he knows from his world. After all that, Odahviing and I will spar in aerial combat. That will probably take several days."

"I may or may not watch after today, then," Sanguine said. "I do have other things I should be doing, both on Nirn and here in Oblivion, but I'll stay in touch." He grinned. "You intrigue me, beautiful one, in both your forms. I haven't had this much fun in a couple of millennia."

Yssha nodded her head, then shifted. "You honor me, Prince Sanguine. Now, if you will excuse me?"

"Certainly. Fly well!"

Lokmoroyol chuckled. _I believe he means that in both senses of the term, thuri, but you will need quite a bit of practice with free flight before you are ready for the shared flight of a sky-dance. And you will want to do that in Nirn, if you and your First wish to display your prowess_.

Yssha repeated that aloud, to Nevan and the Princes' amusement, and Odahviing's considering nod. "She is correct," he said. "Linked flight is most enjoyable, but you must be quite proficient in solo before you can handle linked."

"Then let me begin my practice, please?"

Lokmoroyol nodded inside her head. _Go, then, thuri. Fly in your own body, rather than as a passenger on another's neck or memories._

Yssha crouched, then launched herself with strong (if not yet familiar) legs, wings (no, not arms, in this form) grabbing air, and before she knew it, she was hundreds of feet in the air, wings spread wide, adjusting wing and tail angles to ride updrafts even higher, and she roared her joy at the feeling of freedom. She could go wherever she wished, see everything - it was wonderful!

Then Odahviing was flying beside her. "Watch me now, thuri. You know how to bank, but it is possible to bank all the way over, so you are flying on your back, balancing with tail and head."

Yssha was a bit dubious, but she followed his example, and discovered that inverted flight wasn't as impossible as it sounded. After that he showed her a loop, then a stall turn, then combining forms, like a half-loop followed by a half-roll, and several other variations. She followed his examples for a while, then began trying things on her own.

As she did, she discovered she was having more pure _fun_ than she'd had since she was a kitten tumbling through the flowers of her mother's garden tussling with her sibs and friends. She didn't want to stop, but eventually, even her dragon body tired, and she had to land near Nevan, gape-grinning and trying to catch her breath.

Odahviing landed beside her, looking indulgent, and not tired at all. "You enjoyed yourself, thuri?"

"Oh, very much indeed!" She snorted a laugh. "That sort of flight will make immortality bearable, I think. I doubt I will ever get enough of it, and I will have to get Paarthurnax to teach me the proper prayers of thanks." Then she thought how that might sound to her host, and turned to Sanguine. "I do not mean to offend, so if mentioning the Divines here is improper, I apologize."

"Not a problem," Sanguine replied with a grin. "Your sub-realm, your rules. Actually, though I think she may not be too fond of the idea, I approve of Dibella. She's a bit restrained, by my standards, but otherwise just fine."

Yssha wasn't sure she wanted to hear any more of that, so she turned to Nevan. "Your opinion of our flying, vahriini?"

He grinned, shaking his head. "Clan Leras is the Terran Empire's standard for training aerobatic pilots, and I was one of the best of ours - though after this long out of the cockpit, I wouldn't trust myself with a cadet's lander." He paused, then grinned again. "That said, at my best, I couldn't teach either of you a thing."

Yssha gape-grinned. "Then, while I still need combat practice, would you say I am proficient enough to fly the skies of Taazokaan openly?"

Nevan nodded. "Certainly."

Odahviing rumbled agreement. "You fly alone as though born to it physically, thuri. You wish to demonstrate this to your vodov friends, of course."

"Of course," Yssha agreed. "And my dovah ones, as well. But High King Balgruuf first, I think."

"Not the Emperor?" Nevan asked. "Back in my old home, protocol would call for the Sovereign to be informed of something this important first."

Yssha shrugged. "It probably does here, too. But Balgruuf was my first friend in Skyrim, which is more important to me - and Dragonsreach has the Great Porch, intended for a dragon, where the White Gold Tower does not. The only place in the Imperial City large enough for a dragon is the Arena, and Titus would have to come to me for me to demonstrate my shifting ability."

She paused, gape-grinning. "Of course, the same goes for Balgruuf, of course ... but for him, it means only climbing one flight of stairs in his own home!"

She had learned that she could return from Sanctuary to any place on Nirn she chose, so this time she had Nevan ride Odahviing, and brought all of them to the sky well above Whiterun. Odahviing and Nevan flew to Lakeview, while Yssha herself concentrated on a smooth approach and landing on the balcony of the Great Porch. She was pleased with her touch-down, gape-grinning and fluffing her wings before settling them to her back.

The guard on Porch duty smiled at her and bowed. "You're here to see the High King, I assume, Lord Dovah. I don't recognize you - never seen a mostly gold one with red highlights before. May I give His Highness your name?"

Yssha rumbled the draconic version of a chuckle. "That would spoil the surprise I have for him, so no. And it is Lady, if you must use titles. But if you could ask him and Farengar to come up here, I assure you they will be grateful afterward."

The guard smiled, bowing again. "As you wish, my Lady. I'll tell them right away."

Yssha settled in to wait. Balgruuf, understandably, didn't like having his audiences interrupted - even less now that he was High King rather than simply Jarl. So she was rather surprised when she heard the guard speak to Irileth, and the housecarl did interrupt the proceedings. "My King, we have a dovah visitor. A beautiful gold with a surprise for you and Farengar, Gerd says. He's never seen or heard of her before."

"Then I suppose it would behoove me to greet her." Balgruuf rose from his throne, calling Farengar to join him. They were followed up the stairs and onto the Great Porch by anyone at the audience who could fit, which amused Yssha. True, at the moment, a huge golden dragon was a bit of a novelty, so it wasn't too surprising.

She ducked her head to Balgruuf. "I thank you for coming, High King. It seems good to me that you be the first to officially see my new ability, though my team and a couple of others already know."

"Your team?" Balgruuf shook his head. "You aren't telling me ... yes, I suppose you are."

"You are correct, my oldest Skyrim friend." Yssha shifted, her dragonscale armor now magicked to be the same color as her scales in dragon form. "I am the first, and perhaps the only, Aedric shapeshifter."

That got various reactions from her audience, everything from Balgruuf's impulsive hug to Farengar's almost predatory look of curiosity. "How long?" Balgruuf asked when he released her.

"About two weeks," Yssha replied. "For obvious reasons, I did not wish to make it public knowledge until I could fly properly." She chuckle-purred. "I have always had a dragon soul, but until recently, I had only a Khajiit body, which sadly lacks wings."

Farengar understood immediately. "So while flying is instinctive to one born with a dragon body, as Fusmulgar's dragonets have proven, but It must have been difficult for you."

"And rather embarrassing, though I only permitted a few to watch me practice. Falling on one's muzzle, as an adult, makes one feel extremely clumsy and incompetent. Being pregnant - egg-heavy, in dovah terms - did not make things any easier."

"Is the baby all right?" Irileth asked.

Yssha turned to her with a smile. "Danica assures me he is fine, though I did not mention why I was concerned. She will find out now, of course." Not that she'd really been worried, with Talos assuring her that her children would be safe, but she thought it unwise to mention that, when so many others lacked that direct protection for theirs.

Fusmulgar landed on the balcony rail. "It is good to see you a-wing, thuri," she said. "For such a small joor - ah, vodov, krosis - you make a rather large dovah."

"So Odahviing has told me," Yssha said. "Slightly larger than Alduin, he says. Which is hard to believe, after Helgen and having fought him twice. He was much larger than I was, all three times."

"Geh, of course. You were Khajiit then, so that is only to be expected. Had he met you in your dovah form, I daresay he would have been less ... overconfident of his Thu'um and physical abilities."

"Perhaps. Fortunately, I will not have to fight him again. He was ... as formidable as he belived himself to be. Had I not had considerable assistance, I do not believe I would have prevailed."

"But you did, fortunately for all of Nirn," Balgruuf said. "Ah ... you said I was the first you'd told, publicly? Don't you think you should've told the Emperor first?"

"Why?" Yssha paused for a moment, thinking, then shook her head. "He is not my thur. I am dovah and Stormcrown, so my priorities are different. But you do have a point, and I should tell him next."

* * *

Vaermina was getting frustrated. Even her closest allies were being difficult to convince that her plan to attack the Dragonborn by attacking her dragons would work. Worse, Sanguine was growing distant from her, cozying up to that weakling Azura, and Malacath was forsaking Mephala's interests for those of Meridia.

And worse even than that, Akatosh or Talos had granted the never-sufficiently-cursed Dragonborn the ability to shift into the form of a golden dragon even larger than Alduin. Hircine, rather than being jealous as she'd expected, admired the were-dovah and her relatively quick adaptation to such a different form. When she'd commented about that, he'd wolf-grinned at her.

"Why shouldn't I admire her? My were-creatures aren't anywhere near that far from their usual form or size, and most of them don't adapt anywhere near as quickly. Of course, they don't have other souls of their alternate forms living in them, either. And no, I won't act against her. I think you're foolish to try, actually. You're too likely to attract attention we don't want from the Divines."

Vaermina had to concede that, at least to herself. Akatosh was obviously keeping a close eye on his favored child, and would intervene if ... well, she couldn't know the circumstances, but was certain there were some which would anger him or Talos enough to strike back, as he had at the end of the Oblivion Crisis.

She briefly considered using a different means of attack, but decided her original plan was the only one that would work. However, it might be wise, considering the interest of two powerful Divines for certain, and probably Mara and Arkay as well, to modify her planned timing.

So. Wait for the tailed brat to be born, then. After that, her close allies would probably be more willing to give her the assistance she needed to penetrate the barrier between Oblivion and Nirn.


	40. A Funeral and a Birth

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Chapter 40 - A Funeral and a Birth

01 Frostfall, 5e 2

A few days after she'd revealed her shape-shifting abilities to the Emperor, Yssha was standing honor guard with her team/family and the Knights of the Nine in the Temple of the One. Grams' body lay beside the Dragonfires on a golden bier, while first the High Council and nobles passed by to pay their respects, followed by the wealthy, and finally, on the second day of the lying-in, ordinary citizens. It was those Yssha smiled at, and let her own tears echo their own.

By the end of that day, she was relieved to go to the White Gold Tower with her family and settle into the apartment she'd been given as Stormcrown. It was more elaborate than she really cared for, but she supposed she'd get used to it in time. She'd have millennia, after all, and maybe during that time, she'd be able to get the architects to tone things down a bit. Or her own tastes might change, she conceded, if her draconic nature took over more fully.

The next morning, Yssha took her place beside the coffin, dreading what was to come. As with weddings, formal Imperial funerals took hours of ceremony, as opposed to the brief but heartfelt ritual of a Nord cremation. Priests or Priestesses of all the Divines gave eulogies, then she was expected to give one herself.

"I am Yssha of Family Marcurio within Clan Ysshaya, a direct descendant of our revered ancestress and Clan Founder, Ysshaya," she introduced herself. "As all of you know, Ysshaya was Emperor Martin's friend, and assisted him in many ways during the Oblivion Crisis, even to the last moment where he became the Avatar of Akatosh and ... lost his own identity in the merger.

"But our Revered Ancestress had to continue, and she did. Her life was full and busy, from her duties at Arcane University to founding her clan and raising a family." She went on to describe the major events of her greats-grandmother's life, with an emphasis on the personal, since the rest had already been more than adequately covered.

When she finished, she was emotionally exhausted, and could only hope she'd gotten Grams' personality across as well as others had her heroic deeds. But the day wasn't over yet; the burial was next.

There had been considerable debate as to where that should be, since every location in Cyrodiil had some sort of connection with their Champion. It had taken her intervention, along with the Emperor's, to settle the matter: the Divine Crusader would be buried in the small cemetery that had been established behind the chapel. Yssha had argued for the Undercroft, where Grams had stored the Crusader's armor, but had finally agreed that the stone floor shouldn't be torn up, nor the remains of the original Knights be disturbed.

And she would be buried in her Imperial Dragon armor, so the Crusader's Armor could remain on its stand where it could be seen, protected by the Knights. It wouldn't take a long ground trip to get her there, either; to Yssha's surprise, Lokbiidaan had offered to be fitted with a harness so he could carry the coffin to its destination.

Yssha had accepted gratefully, of course, helping fit him with it, then helping load the coffin. Just before he lifted off, she murmured softly, "Thank you, zeymahi [my brother]. You do my Family's clan-mother great honor."

"It is my pleasure," he replied, as softly as he could. "I carried her in life; it is only fitting that I carry her on her final journey." Then he took off.

Yssha shifted, crouching so her team could mount, then she took off as well, heading for the Priory where she'd trained for her then-unknown destiny.

When she landed and her team dismounted, she shifted back. It was strange, carrying them instead of riding with them, but since it meant flying on her own wings, she didn't mind at all.

Lokbiidaan was already there, the harness loose and the coffin resting on the ground. Durnehviir landed while she and the Knights were freeing the blue dovah the rest of the way, and his two riders approached. "Want a hand?" Andreius asked.

"Yes, please," Yssha replied. "I thought you knew - she wanted you, me, Marcurio, Sorcalin, Sir Stildyne, and His Majesty, when he arrives."

That was only a few more minutes, and His Majesty bowed to the other pallbearers before taking up his own handle. Solemnly, the six moved to the graveyard, where the Knights had prepared the grave. The pallbearers placed the coffin into the sling that would lower it into the earth, and stepped back.

The Knights lowered the casket, then they and the pallbearers bowed their heads in silent prayer. It was Yssha who threw the first dirt into the grave, then the Knights took up shovels to finish the job. The simple headstone would be installed later, as soon as the maker was satisfied with his work. In the meantime, the Knights had placed a Shrine of Talos to mark the spot.

* * *

08 Frostfall, 5E 2

Yssha woke feeling odd. Not bad, but distinctly odd, as if something was about to happen, and she was certain she wouldn't be getting back to sleep, whatever it was, so she got up and used the bathroom, then went through the rest of her morning routine. She had just finished dressing when she heard Marcurio moving around, and went back into the bedroom. To her astonishment, he was out of bed.

"Are you all right, beloved?" she asked with a frown.

"I'm fine, dearling - I was worried about you. You've been restless all night, and you're up early, even for you. Are you feeling okay?"

"Odd, but not bad ... um." She felt wetness between her legs, and knew it wasn't urine. "Uh, I think Dirsha is planning to make his appearance today. Could you ask Ahkrinbo to get Danica?"

"Don't bother," Grams' familiar voice said, as she shimmered into existence. "She'll be on the way as soon as she gets dressed. Got a waterproof mattress cover yet?"

"Of course, and we have been using it for the last week just in case - Danica did say she could not be sure of the date, especially with an interspecies birth, so we chose to err on the side of caution. But ... what now?"

"Danica didn't brief you? You need to stay hydrated and try to relax. Any contractions yet?"

Yssha frowned uncertainly. "I am not sure, but I think perhaps while I was cleaning my teeth. And she did brief me, but ... while she is an excellent healer, she is not my greats-grandmother!"

"Calm down, youngster," Grams said with a grin. "You're in good shape and you've been active, which is helpful. If it weren't still dark, I'd suggest a leisurely walk down to the lake and back."

"A walk to the lake?" Marcurio grinned. "We're all three mages, so I don't think providing a bit of light should be a problem. Uh, you can still cast spells, can't you?"

"Yep, but I shouldn't need to. When your wife's soul-brother is a Divine, I think he'll take care of that, and keeping any potential threats away from his unborn nephew."

Marcurio chuckled. "He does seem to enjoy helping her, so that wouldn't surprise me. Let's go, then - I need to alert Rayya to get some tisane steeping for when we get back."

When the three left Lakeview Manor, everyone left inside was awake and aware of what was going on. Even though it was barely 3 AM, the light was as if the sun was just rising behind the trees, and Ahkrinbo grinned at Yssha. "Bormahu doing you a favor, briinah?"

"Nid - our brother Talos."

"I should have guessed. May we fly cover?"

"If you wish, and your team does not object to being wakened so early."

"Object?" Ralof said, emerging from the team quarters near the stables. "Try to keep us away! Oblivion, you'll probably have a full canopy while the kit's being born."

Yssha simply sighed, but didn't bother objecting; it would do no good anyway. She simply tried to concentrate on the pleasant walk down to Lake Ilinalta and back, paying no attention to the growing noise of dragon wings.

When they got back to Lakeview and went inside, she was met with Rayya offering her some tisane, and Freyr looking a bit worried. She sipped at the tisane, then asked Freyr, "What is wrong, son?"

"I'm s'posed to inherit Skyhold, right? Or was, till you got a real son?"

Yssha embraced him. "You _are_ my real son, Freyr - never think otherwise! But yes, the Imperial laws of inheritance do say a child of my body takes precedence for rule over an adopted child."

To her surprise, he grinned. "Good! I've watched you being Jarl, an' just watching it is awful." he made a face. "I don't wanna be a Jarl. Does that mean I can maybe have Windstad, and stick Dirsha with Skyhold?"

Yssha controlled her face very carefully. "Are you sure that's what you want, son?"

"Yes, Mama! I've watched you Jarl, an' it's boring!"

Yssha chuckle-purred. "Then you get your wish, dear. Once he is born, Dirsha will become heir to Skyhold. You may have Windstad, or any of my other dwellings, with my blessings."

"Windstad," Freyr said insistently. "I'm gonna be a crafter."

Yssha chuckle-purred. "Last time we spoke of this, you wanted to be an adventurer, like me." Freyr looked abashed for a moment, but then said, "Still like you, Mama. You smith, make potions, enchant, everything!"

"If you have any preference, then, let me know, and I will start stocking materials, and finding you books on that skill. And apprentice you to a skilled practitioner."

"Really, Mama?" Freyr was clearly elated. "I need to think ... smith, probably, but alchemy looks like fun, too."

Yssha hid a sigh, but smiled. All right, she'd start gathering supplies for both, and speak to the smiths and alchemists she knew to see if any were looking for an apprentice ... but then she felt another twinge, and caught her breath, wincing.

Freyr looked suddenly worried. "You okay, mama?"

"I am fine, son. It is just your brother, making his arrival known. Why not go to Pinewatch, and play with your friends until this is over, and you can meet him?"

"Uh, they may not be awake yet ... but once I get breakfast, I'll go." Yssha heard him mutter something under his breath as he left, something about ... "yucky anyway" ...

Danica grinned. "Typical youngster," she commented. "And I'm told your parents are on their way, but I must be firm: no more than you, me, your husband, and your midwife in your labor and delivery room. Once you go into real labor, I'll cast a cleanliness spell, and more than that make it less effective."

"Well, you could allow her mother," Grams said, grinning. "I'm a ghost, after all, so I don't bring along any of those infection things."

"I would rather not," Danica replied. "That would set a bad precedent for others. So we four, and no others. They can meet their grandchild later."

"All right." Yssha smiled. "You, Grams, and the Divines are in charge, right now."

Over the next hour or two, her contractions grew stronger and closer together. When they hit less than five minutes apart, Danica took her to the bedroom, and she grabbed Marcurio's hands, hard.

The labor was tiring and uncomfortable, but she followed Grams and Danica's promptings about when to push and when to relax, then there was a final hard push, and she heard a squall as Dirsha met relatively cool air. Grams soothed him, then Yssha felt a weight on her chest, and her son clamped on to her breast and began enthusiastically nursing.

Yssha smiled softly, and began stroking her newborn's damp, furry back. "Welcome to Nirn, Dirsha," she murmured, following Danica's instructions to push, yet again.

"That's it, child," Grams said, bending over her. "How do you feel?"

Yssha purred. "Tired, but very, very happy. Is he ... normal?"

"Five fingers on each of two hands with tiny claws, five toes on each foot the same, only one head ... yes, he's normal," Grams assured her. "Your Suthay build, with Marcurio's dark brown hair color for his fur. All in all, a beautiful child."

"Good." Yssha sighed. "I think ... I need to sleep. Thank you, Grams."

"My pleasure, youngling. See you in Stormhaven whenever you visit."

As Yssha and Dirsha drowsed off, Grams winked at Marcurio and Danica, then faded away.

* * *

When Yssha woke, Dirsha was curled up between her and Marcurio, and she smiled, gently licking her son's forehead before she eased herself carefully out of bed to clean up and dress before the day's events. Primary among those would be his Introduction to his family, their closest friends, and the Divines, of course, and she'd insist he not be bothered unnecessarily, but she herself might be kept busy.

Most such Introductions took place in a Chapel or Temple, but considering the size of some of Dirsha's relatives, this one would take place outside, at mid-morning, though the immediate family and Rayya were introduced as soon as he was awake and she'd fed him.

Marcurio was present for that part, and grinned as he watched his son. "He's so tiny," he said quietly. "But he's perfect."

Yssha purred. "He is actually on the large size for a kitten, but then being half-human, that might be normal. But yes, he is. Just like his father."

"You flatter me, dearling," Marcurio said, with a soft smile. "And I wouldn't call him a kitten; I've seen Khajiit newborns before, and he looks pure Suthay, not like he's going to shift to Alfiq, or at the other end of the size scale, Senche-raht."

"Though he may grow into Suthay-raht size," Yssha said. "He could well be more your stature than mine, as he shares your coloring rather than mine."

* * *

When they emerged from Lakeview Manor, there were more people than Yssha had expected, from everywhere in the Empire, to the point where the clearing was so full she doubted even one more person could be packed in. Titus was there, and Balgruuf, and Brynjolf and Vex from the Guild. Nevan and Serana had met him inside, along with Andreius and Sorcalin, where each had greeted him in their own way, but Gelebor was here from Blackreach, Erandur and Kiraya from wherever they'd been - everywhere she looked, there were friends.

And for the Divines, Talos in his form after the assassination attempt had robbed his mortal body of Voice, and Bormahu in the form of his Martin avatar. To her surprise, there were even a few Princes ... Azura, Meridia, and Hircine, in human or mer form, with perhaps Sanguine as an Imperial scholar and ... could that Orsimer be Malacath?

Yssha didn't hold Dirsha up, just spoke a full formal introduction of herself, then continued. "As his mother, I introduce my son and heir, Dirsha of Family Marcurio within Clan Ysshaya. I invite you to see him and introduce yourselves."

It began then, and turned out to be the least objectionable ceremony she'd been through. First to approach was the young monk, who wasn't opposed by those of supposedly higher rank. He touched the baby's forehead, murmuring, "My blessings, grandson. You will have a more peaceful life than your mother's."

Yssha gave him a grateful smile at that, then the rest began coming up, briefly blessing the baby. She didn't remember all of them, but a few stuck in her mind.

Malacath: "Born of a Blood-Kin, so Blood-Kin by birth. The Strongholds will always welcome you."

Brynjolf: "You and yours are under Guild protection, lad. Some day, you'll know what that means."

Hircine: "None of my children will harm you or yours. And you'll be welcome in the Hunting Grounds, should you ever want that alternative."

Balgruuf: "Given your mother, lad, you'll be a fine ruler. I'll help, if she wishes."

Then the humans dispersed, so the dovah could take part, and Odahviing landed. He didn't get too close, and his murmur of a blessing was more of a loud rumble. "Hi ni dovahkiin, kiir, nuz hin monah los. Do zu'u ofan dii foraan : Odahviing. For ivaan hi praag zey." [You are not dragonborn, child, but your mother is. So I give my name: Odahviing. Call if you need me.]

Yssha sensed the shift of power as he gave her son what he would need to use that Shout, and blinked. Only one Shout, but probably the most important one he could have!

"Kogaani, vahriini [my thanks, my sworn one]," she said softly. "That means much to me."

"You no longer need me for transportation, thuri," Odahviing pointed out. "And he will need me only for a few scant years, as dov count time. It is a tiny gift I give him, but one I thought you would approve." He snorted softly enough not to alarm the baby. "It will be no small thing, to be known in our teyye [tales] as the steed of both our thur and her firstborn."

Yssha chuckle-purred. "And father of the largest clutch in dov history," she added.


	41. Titan

Author's Note: CHIM, as described in Lore, is less than clear, except that it "allows for escape from all known laws and limitations" and "one who knows CHIM ... possesses incomprehensible power to alter reality." Any other details about it here are mine, though I try not to contradict anything else mentioned in Lore.

* * *

Chapter 41 - Titan

Vaermina had finally convinced the others of the anti-Dovahkiin group to join her in weakening the barrier between Oblivion and Mundus, then sending a Titan to attack their foe's pet dovah. There had been some squabbling about where to send it, but they'd finally decided that her capital of Helgen was most appropriate - Alduin had attacked there first, and she'd rebuilt it. It seemed only appropriate to start serious action against her there.

So she summoned her favorite, Nahvoljot, armed him with Molag Bal's mace and Mephala's Ebony Blade, and sent him forth with his instructions. Dragons were to be his primary targets, but an occasional joor might be a nice bonus.

As soon as he emerged from the weakened spot in the barrier, Nahvoljot stooped toward the nearest dragon, who was perched on a tower a thousand feet or so below him, both his weapons ready. Another dragon saw him, and tried to intercept the dive, but was too late; by the time he arrived, Nahvoljot had struck, and turned to attack his attacker.

His opponent Shouted flame, but Nahvoljot sneered, and used his own Flaming Essence-Drain spell. His opponent crashed, screaming, and the other dragons took flight, which pleased him. He flew west, toward Dovahkiin's home - there was always a dragon stationed there.

Yssha was outside when she heard what sounded like a dragon approaching, but when she looked to see who it was, she saw a monster instead. She Called, as loudly as she could, "Bovul Lakeview!"

Ahkrinbo didn't have time to react; he was dead before he could move, killed by the essence-drain spell, and his soul pushed into his thur. _Kuz nahkriin fah zey, thuri!_ [Take vengeance for me, my overlord!]

 _Geh, vahriini._ Yssha felt a surge of rage, and Shouted at the intruder. "Joor ... Zah FRUL!"

It staggered in the air, but didn't crash. Instead, it sneered at her, saying something in a language she didn't recognize. Then it flew off.

* * *

"What in Oblivion!" Andreius looked up at Durnehviir. "'Flee Lakeview', then Dragonrend?"

"Geh. I do not know, but I must obey. It is bad, whatever it is. Go to her, if you can!"

Sorcalin grabbed Andreius' hand. "Hang on, I've got teleport points there."

In an eyeblink, they were at Lakeview, staring at a dragon skeleton and a furious Yssha, with Marcurio, Nevan and Serana sprinting toward her. "What happened?" Andreius demanded.

"Something that looked like a huge black dragon with arms as well as wings. It killed Ahkrinbo, and said something in a language I do not know. Then it left, and I do not know for where!" The last came out in a yowl.

Andreius and Sorcalin exchanged glances. "Daedric Titan, you think?" Andreius asked.

"It sounds like one," Sorcalin agreed. "In which case, it's _really_ bad news. They can wield weapons, they have that fiery essence drain spell, they're very hard to kill ... and it could be pretty much any Daedric Prince directing one." He turned to Yssha. "You angered several of them, and they must know your dovahhe are dear to you, so it's going after them."

Yssha nodded, accepting the information. "At least there is only the one. So far, and I pray the Dragonfire Barrier keeps more from coming through. But ... how to defeat it? It is only weakened a bit by Dragonrend, so I would not expect Dragonbane to have much more effect, since it is not a true dragon."

"Based on a dragon, from what little we know," Sorcalin said. "'Boziikkodstrun,' according to legend." He sighed. "I don't think anything short of a dragon could take him, honestly, and not a normal dragon, at that, given the flaming essence drain. I'd recommend you leave Nevan and Serana out of this one ... it'd be suicidal for either of them. Not much better for me, I suppose, but Andreius is as immortal as you are, if he wants to try." Sorcalin grinned. "Despite my odds, I'm backing you."

"Both of us are," Andreius said. "I went into the Anvil Oblivion Gate with Ysshaya, figuring my men and I might have to rescue her civilian tail." He grinned. "Didn't quite work out that way, but that was my thought at the time. I can hardly leave my honorary niece to fight a Titan alone, can I?"

"Perhaps both of you should," Yssha said. "True, Andreius is immortal, but ... I would still feel guilty if either of you were hurt fighting on my behalf. And this attack seems focused specifically at me, through my vahriinne."

Andreius looked at her, a bit cautiously. "You just gave birth, youngster. Let us handle it."

Yssha turned on him, half-snarling. "Yes, I am a new mother! That does not mean I am incapable, or disabled. My vahriinne need me, and I will respond. Deal with it."

"Oops," Sorcalin mouthed silently. They'd goofed, gotten her dragon side aroused, and now they'd have to deal with it, as she said. Yssha, as a Khajiit, was fairly easy to handle; as a dovah, she was the one who did the handling, And right now, she was pure dovah.

"Anything we can do?" he asked softly.

"Find me that Titan before it kills any more of my fronne [kindred]," she said grimly. "You are both better mages than I am. _Find me that Titan_. But do not engage. Find it, and give me the location, only."

* * *

She called Odahviing, reluctantly, and when he arrived, gave orders she could only hope would be obeyed. "Stay away from the Titan. If it approaches, flee. And pass that along. None of my vahriinne are to engage that ... that _thing_ if it can be avoided. Go to the far side of Nirn if you must, but stay away from it. It is mine, and mine alone."

"Geh, Thuri. What of the rest of your team?"

"Yeah, what about us?" Nevan asked.

"Stay here and protect the children. That way I will not have to worry about them while I am fighting this Titan." She looked hard at Marcurio. "Especially you, beloved. I will not have Dirsha losing his father before he even has a chance to know you."

Marcurio didn't like that at all, but he nodded slowly. "I ... understand, love. But by the Divines, be careful!"

"As careful as I can be in combat," she promised. "But what I need now is information." She turned to Andreius and Sorcalin. "Before you start scrying, tell me everything you know about these Titans and their capabilities."

Andreius frowned. "Supposedly, Boziikkodstrun was captured and tortured to death by Molag Bal, then infused with a Daedric Vestige instead of his dragon soul. His skeleton was modified, and he was thrown into wherever Daedra go to be reconstituted after death. Some say it's called the Waters, others say it's the Azure Chasm, full of slime, but no one knows for sure.

"As for their capabilities, you know they have arms as well as wings, so they can use weapons and spells, but they seem to lack the Thu'um. Instead, they have that flaming essence drain spell, which is even worse, since it's a single word."

"Still, it's not invincible," Sorcalin pointed out. "It can be injured, and if rumors from the Second Era can be believed, that spell can be turned back on its user if it's interrupted while being cast. Do you know anything like a Silence spell?"

Yssha shook her head. "That one, I think, stopped being taught shortly after the beginning of the Fourth Era. I have no idea why."

Andreius chuckled. "Because it was being misused, mostly by students, and not just against other mages. Sorcalin and I both learned it, but then, we pre-date the Fourth Era."

"And you say his spell is a single word, where a Thu'um requires three for full strength." Yssha scowled. "Then if you are able to scry the Titan's location, it would appear I should take Andreius with me to face it."

"Both of us," Sorcalin corrected. "He's fast, but I have a werewolf's reflexes, so I'm faster. And speed will be essential if it starts to use that spell on us."

Yssha thought back to seeing Farkas in action, back in Dustman's Cairn, and nodded. "Very well. Once we find out where it is, I go dovah, and I will fly the three of us into combat."

* * *

Yssha hated waiting, but she had to, while Andreius and Sorcalin cast and re-cast their scrying spells. With nothing of the Titan's to use as a focus, they were essentially working blind.

But at least for this wait, she had Dirsha to play with and nurse, until she had to leave. Rayya had hired a wet-nurse, since it had always been unlikely that Yssha would have time to do it all herself, but when she could, she savored the opportunity. She hoped to be home when his eyes opened, and wasn't happy that if the hunt for this Titan dragged on, she wouldn't be able to.

At least she could comfort herself that he'd be well taken care of while she was gone. Nevan had promised to take him into Blackreach if it started looking dangerous on the surface, which was reassuring, so she savored the time with him and Marcurio while she had it. Nursing Dirsha while Marcurio sat beside her, his arm around her ... times like this, she thought, were worth the fighting and risks it had taken to arrive at them.

* * *

It took a day and a half, but her friends looked grimly satisfied when they found her to report success. "It's at Forgotten Vale. The twin dragons there are battling it with ground support from Odmer mages, but not doing well."

"Outside, then, right away." She hurried outside herself, and shifted to dragon form, then crouched so Andreius and Sorcalin could mount. Once they were firmly settled, she launched herself for the Vale - grateful that she wouldn't have to make her way through Darkfall Cave first, this time. Although from what she'd been told, Darkfall Cave was nothing compared to a Titan ...

She found out just how right that was as soon as she got close enough to engage it. She was incredibly grateful that it didn't have the Thu'um, but the fiery essence drain was faster, and the twins were having trouble dodging, their Shouts little more effective than Dragonrend had been - and it was going at them with mace and sword, as well.

Divines, she did not want to see another of her kin killed! "Bovul, fronne!" She Called. That attracted the Titan's attention to her, as the twins obeyed, their body language showing clear reluctance - but to her relief, they did obey, and the Titan attacked her and her riders instead.

She used Marked for Death as Andreius cast wards, pleased to see the thing stagger from her Shout as the ward blocked its spell - but it was coming for them with its weapons as well, and she felt suddenly vulnerable, without any weapons of her own. So this was how her kin had felt, trying to face her down when she'd had her mace or, worse from their viewpoint, Dragonbane. It was terrifying, and she had to use every bit of the flying skill she'd practiced both in Sanctuary and Tamriel to avoid them.

Some weaker Daedra had apparently made it through as well, because there were archers firing at Yssha as well as Odmer firing both arrows and spells at the Titan. "Make a low pass," Sorcalin yelled through the wind roar.

Yssha heard him, but there was no time to ask for an explanation. She did as she'd been asked, scenting his change of form as he leapt from her neck at the lowest point. As she climbed for altitude again, she saw him starting to rampage through the Daedra archers, and grinned.

Minutes seemed like hours as they fought, Yssha almost purely defensive except for her Thu'um, Andreius having to take the offensive role. Given the maneuvers she had to make, she was astonished he was able to do anything, but they gradually managed to wear the Titan down, just enough, and she was fortunate enough to be in a good position so that Andreius was able to cast Silence just as it was beginning to cast its fiery essence drain yet again.

She let out a roar of triumph as the Second Era rumors were proven true, and the spell recoiled on its caster. The Titan shrieked and disappeared.

She landed, as it happened near one of the Wayshrines, and ... well, it wasn't quite a collapse, but when Andreius dismounted and walked to her face, he looked troubled. "Are you all right, youngster?" he asked.

"Exhausted," she admitted reluctantly. "That was ... well, let us just say I am glad Alduin had no weapons, and I had Dragonbane. Otherwise, Mundus would probably no longer exist."

Andreius frowned. "That bad, hmm? But I think I can understand." He paused. "So what now? And where's Sorcalin?"

"A moment, then I reverse the orders that are no longer necessary." She rested for a few minutes, then rose to her haunches, and Called. "Pah, hi aal daal. Krongrah los un." [All, you may return. Victory is ours.]

Moments later, the twins joined them. "You are well, thuru?" one asked, concerned.

"Geh, just very tired," Yssha said. "I will rest a bit longer, then return to my home. You did well against the Titan, for which may Bormahu bless you. But we are missing one of our party, an Altmer werewolf who was fighting on the ground."

"Ah." One of them gape-grinned. "So that is the explanation for the Dremora corpses shredded on the other side of the Wayshrine." He snorted a laugh. "I will go see how he is doing." He took off, and returned shortly thereafter with a battered-looking Sorcalin, again in mer form, on his neck.

Sorcalin slid down the dovah's wing, and limped toward Yssha and Andreius. "You're all right?"

"Exhausted, but otherwise, yes," Andreius replied. "Doesn't look like you can say the same, though."

Sorcalin shrugged. "The damn Titan caught me a glancing blow, trying to rescue a couple of its archers before I could tear them apart. I owe Mistress Avenicci some serious thanks - if not for the armor she crafted for me, I'd be running through the Hunting Grounds now. I definitely would anyway, if it'd landed the blow solidly, instead of me being able to dodge the worst of it."

* * *

They made a slight detour to Whiterun on the way back to Lakeview to take care of that. Yssha shifted as soon as she landed and her passengers dismounted, and they entered the city. One of the guards caught her attention, so she paused. "Geh?"

"Is ... ah, is everything back to normal, Lady Dovahkiin? It was ... kind of scary, having the dragons gone. Quite a relief to have the Skyguard flying patrols again."

Back to normal? Yssha thought. And a relief to have dragons around? That was quite a change from when they'd first returned! Well, she still had to find some way to deal with the root problem that was the hostile Princes, but ... "Yes, or at least I believe so."

"Good - I'll pass on the word. Thanks, Dovahkiin."

"You are most welcome." She smiled. "Is Adrianne free, do you know?"

"She was with a customer last time I looked, ma'am, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind you interrupting."

Probably true, but perhaps a stop at the Drunken Huntsman first ... Sorcalin could probably use a drink, and truth be told, after fighting that Titan, she wouldn't mind a glass of wine herself. She suggested that, and the other two agreed.

When they emerged, Adrianne was at the tanning rack, standing with a smile when Yssha called her name. "What is it, fahdoni?"

Yssha purred at that. "Master Sorcalin has something he wishes to say. Have you met?"

The smith chuckled. "Yes, in his other form. It's good to see you as a mer, Master Mage."

Sorcalin smiled, bowing. "I have to thank you for overcoming your reluctance at being around a shifted werewolf at least twice your size, and for keeping your composure - it made it easier for me to keep mine, when you had to touch me to take measurements."

"Well ... I trust Marcurio, and I knew it was necessary, so ... " Adrianne shrugged. "I hope the armor has served you well."

"Very well indeed, which is why we're here. It saved me from a number of injuries during Dovahkiin's rescue, then today, I'm convinced your work actually saved my life. I got a couple of broken ribs from a blow that would have otherwise torn me in half. So you have my everlasting gratitude for your efforts, and if I can ever return the favor, you have only to ask."

Adrianne smiled ruefully. "Nothing at the moment, but I thank you in turn, Master Sorcalin. I don't have too many customers come to tell me how my work affected them. It's good to know." She paused. "But you don't look like you've been that badly injured such a short time ago."

"Werewolf rapid healing, aided by the efforts of a couple of Odmer Restoration mages." Sorcalin smiled. "I'm fine."

"And I have a question," Yssha said.

Adrianne turned to her. "What's that?"

"Ah ... a personal favor, if you would. Should you desire to take an apprentice, would you consider my son Freyr for the position? He is no longer in line to be Jarl of Skyhold, and thinks he would like to be a smith. Or perhaps an alchemist."

"Hmm ... how old is he?"

"Six, or perhaps seven ... no one was sure of his age when Marcurio and I adopted him. Perhaps even eight. And he has been taking weapons training with Nevan, who makes him chop wood and do other exercises to build up his strength."

"That'll do, then. Sure, and Ulfberth's been saying I should take on an apprentice in a few months. I'll send a courier when I decide I'm ready, all right?"

"Fine, and thank you." Yssha smiled. "Now I suppose we should return to Lakeview, and let the family know of our survival and success."


	42. Confrontation and Aftermath

.

Chapter 42 - Confrontation and Aftermath

Yssha had been badly shaken by the fight with the Titan, but now that she was home again, in bed with Marcurio, Dirsha purring between them, it was hard to be anything but contented. Her husband, her son ... the only flaw was that the Princes who hated her could and would attack again, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold them off .

She grumbled to herself, but then Dirsha decided he was hungry, and she snuggled him to her breast, cat-smiling as he nursed. Her mind wandered, from her time as a Thalmor prisoner which had made childbirth a minor discomfort by comparison, to chats with Paarthurnax, to her and Grams' dispute with Delphine, and even back to her escape from Helgen with Hadvar.

Saarthal and Ancient's Ascent, Miraak and Hermaeus mora, Molag Bal and his Mace ... the Markarth orphanage ... Dirsha. She had to protect him, and that meant doing something about the Daedra, something more than the Dragonfires she'd rekindled.

As her son nursed, she began to drowse off, her mind going to the Aurbis she'd studied so much about, to so little end. As she'd been warned, study had been practically no help, and her meditations had been little more productive.

But here, in bed with her husband and nursing son, the Aurbis took on more reality. Nirn was the hub of the Aurbis, but ...what was the hub of Nirn?

As you went from Void to Aetherius, to Nirn through the spokes separating the realms of Oblivion, things got smaller.

Nirn was the hub, the smallest part of Mundus ... but was it, really? Or did things get even smaller?

She nuzzled Dirsha, beginning to groom him as he nursed, and it happened.

Physically, yes, things got a lot smaller, to a tininess she couldn't comprehend ... but in what the gods found truly important, the smallest unit was mother, father, and baby.

CHIM. Family. That was the core, the meaning. The true reality. To her, at least ... others could have other core realities, another reason CHIM was unteachable. You had to connect it to your personal core, and for her, it was family.

She bared her fangs, in a feline smile of triumph.

* * *

She shifted into both her dragon form and her Oblivion realm of Sanctuary, and summoned the Daedric Princes before her. They were segregated into three groups, with a single indivihual standing aside, and she addressed them as they had earned.

"Azura, Meridia, and Hircine. You are Patrons of my friends and family. You do not threaten any in Mundus, so you may continue as you wish. Sanguine and Malacath, while you are not patrons, you are also not threats to the people of Nirn, so you may also continue as you wish."

Then she turned to the second group, her expression less pleasant. "Molag Bal. Mehrunes Dagon. Mephala. Vaermina. All of you harm the inhabitants of Nirn, simply for your own pleasure. I therefore banish you permanently." She raised both hands, glowing gold. "Hi los ni - you are not." And they vanished.

Her attention went to Hermaeus Mora. "You are a more difficult problem. You harm those you wish knowledge from, even when harm is not necessary, because the knowledge is being given willingly. Yet the knowledge you gather is invaluable. So ... you may continue your search for knowledge, but you may no longer restrict access to it, or depart Apocrypha in search of it. I imprison you there, as you imprisoned Miraak." The writhing mass of tentacles and eyes started to protest, but before it could speak, it vanished.

Then her attention went to the third group. "Boethia. Clavicus Vile. Namira. Nocturnal. Peryite. I do not particularly care for much of what any of you stand for, but so far, you have not earned my enmity, and Nocturnal's luck, I am informed, is not only for thieves, and is essential to all life. I do not choose to either alter your minds or remove you from existence, but you do not have my confidence, and your actions cannot be left unmonitored."

At last, she turned to the one standing alone. "Sheogorath, Prince of Madness. As you are now, that is, but you did not begin that way, did you? As I have been given to understand it, you began as Jyggalag, Prince of Order, but were so powerful the other Princes banded together and cursed you to become the embodiment of what you most hated, except for once an eon during the Graymarch."

The Madgod nodded. "You understand correctly, Dovahkiin. I have been cursed, but most of the time, it seems my natural state. During the Graymarch, though, when I am my true self, it is ... horrifying. While you are judging us, would you consider ... " He paused. "I don't know what I really want, you know. I can't, the way I am now."

Yssha smiled at him sympathetically. "Yes, I understand. My greats-grandmother was almost set up to defeat you as Jyggalag, freeing you, and taking Sheogorath's place as Madgod. Her distaste for Oblivion prevented that, but I am now able to remove your curse without having to become the Madgod myself. If you accept that, you will become chief among the Princes, as Akatosh is chief of the Divines."

Sheogorath twirled his cane. "Will I still like cheese?" he asked.

Yssha frowned. "I doubt it would change your food tastes," she replied, puzzled by the question.

"Then I leave the decision to you, Restorer. But either way, I would like to remember."

"Then you will do so. Return to yourself, Prince of Order."

The dapper man with a cane transformed into a giant armored knight, who bowed to Yssha. "I thank you, Restorer. I promise you that you will have no further need to intervene in Oblivion, though you will always be welcome in these realms."

"Thank you. That is a major relief." Yssha sighed. "I ... hesitated to intervene, even by eliminating only four Princes and their realms, and imprisoning a fifth. Just insure I do not have to remove any of the marginal ones, and I will be happy. At least the Balance is restored."

"Indeed," Jyggalag replied. "I foresee only minor problems, none requiring your intervention, for at least three or four millennia." He, or it, sounded like he was smiling. "Go raise your children, Stormcrown, dance your skydances, and care for your Sworn Ones and their partners. I will keep the remaining Princes from any more interference than the Divines allow themselves."

* * *

Yssha willed herself to Stormhaven while she considered what, if anything, further she should do. Now that she had CHIM, there was nothing to stop her doing anything she could conceive of, and some of it was incredibly tempting. But it also let her understand why the Divines normally interfered only rarely, and almost always indirectly even then.

So. Keep her promise to Jarl Brunwulf to make Skuldafn visible from Eastmarch, while maintaining its inaccessibility by ground travel. That would take only minor touches here and there on a couple of the view-obstructing peaks, without appreciably changing their visible shapes.

It would be nice to restore Morrowind to its condition before the Red Year, but ... no. That could be as devastating, physically and socially, as the Red Year itself, totally changing the topography and ecology of that entire province. Better to leave it as it was, what people, plants, and animals had adapted to. Maybe a special form of grass, able to thrive in the ash as well as trama root and scathecraw, to let the Dunmer begin a much slower process of reclaiming Morrowind for themselves ... yes, that should be acceptable. She hoped. "Zeymahi?"

"Geh, briinahi?" Talos appeared beside her.

"Am I acting as you and Bormahu would wish?" She sounded plaintive to herself, and didn't like it, but ... she did need to know.

"You're doing fine, little sister." Talos grinned. "Though I suppose that's not appropriate, any more, since you can be bigger than I ever was."

Yssha chuckle-purred. "Yes, thanks to Bormahu. But ... given my most recent decision, I am most curious. Did you really alter Cyrodiil's climate, as your priest in Whiterun insists? Am I wrong in not restoring Morrowind's?"

"No to both," he assured her. "Cyrodiil's change was due to the White Gold Tower, not me - it started long before I took the throne. And you are quite correct that you shouldn't alter Morrowind's, except in the introduction of invasive grasses you're thinking of."

"Ah. Perhaps I should not have made some of the others I did? Though Bormahu Himself gave the twins the Shout I used to restore the Betrayed ... "

"You did all those as a particularly gifted mortal, then immortal, not as CHIM. And that's not something you achieve, as you've found out ... it's something you actually become. So tell me, briinahi ... what will you do with the Aurbis, now that you control it totally?"

That was easy. "Very little, and that only rarely, as you Divines do. Return home, to my family, and live as normal a life as I can, which has always been my desire. If I can find out how. At least until Dirsha is prepared to rule and I am free to abdicate my Jarldom. At that point, I will move the Greater Mirmulnir Throne to the place Seridur will have for it at Skuldafn, and create a reproduction from bonemold for him and his descendants."

Talos smiled. "How does CHIM do anything else? Simply will it, and that things return to normal. Of course, that'll also mean no one will remember any of the disruptions caused by you ridding this universe of four Daedric Princes and exiling a fifth ... "

"As long as they remain gone, and Herma-Mora remains in exile ... yes. Thank you, zeymahi. I return home." But before she did so, Akatosh joined them.

"One more thing, my youngest daughter," the flaming dragon said. "A thing I cannot do, but you now can, if you choose it."

"And that would be what, Bormah?" Yssha asked. "I cannot imagine ... "

"Those of my other children whose souls you hold, moni. I would recommend against doing it in Mundus, because it would cause an overpopulation of dovah there - but you have the power to free them, perhaps into this realm of Stormhaven."

That was something she hadn't thought of. Except for her three soul-sibs, and Ahkrinbo recently, who was barely drowsing, they hadn't troubled her in a long time. "I think, Bormahu, that the choice should be theirs, not mine." And Numinex ... she could heal his madness, another thing she'd not thought of. She reached deep, to where he slept, and did so, very gently, then just as gently, nudged him "awake".

He "woke" slowly, then sent the impression of a smile. _I am Numinex, am I not? I forgot that, for a long while. Where am I now, and who are you?_

 _I am Dovahkiin, born Yssha, a kaaz, and I hold your soul. I would free it into my realm of Aetherius, called Stormhaven, if you wish. Bormahu and His son Talos wait here, to greet you if that is your choice._

There was what felt like a long silence, then, _I do not think I wish to know how I ended up in a Dovahkiin, or how one gained a realm in Aetherius. But yes, I choose the freedom you offer. Thuri._

 _So be it, then_ , Yssha told him with a smile, freeing his soul and watching it emerge in the form of a blood dragon. "I am sorry I could not revive you as I have so many others, but when you died, however it was, the location of your remains was lost, except for your skull. That is now buried in a proper mound outside my capital of Helgen."

"Oh, Olaf killed me when I ceased to amuse him," Numinex said. "I heard him ordering that I be dismembered and my remains scattered, as I died. How were you able to recover even my skull?"

"I hate to say so, but he mounted it as a trophy over his throne. There is a duplicate still there, which I exchanged with the current Jarl so he would let me have your true one and give it proper burial. Please do not hold that exchange against my fahdon Balgruuf; that skull had become a traditional part of the Dragonsreach Great Hall."

Numinex snorted a laugh. "Since you ask, thuri, I will not. Your fahdon had nothing to do with either my death or my skull's trophy status, so there is nothing to forgive him for. Now may I fly, myself again?"

"Fly free, fahdoni ahrk vahriini [my friend and my sworn one]," she replied, and he leaped into the sky, wings beating strongly.

Once he was lost in the distance, she spoke to the others still within her. _And the rest of you - how do you choose?_

Almost all instantly chose independence, and she freed them the same way. When she was done, only her three soul-sibs were left, and the ... not sleeping, she now realized, but paralyzed - soul of Miraak. Had he been aware like that, and unable to communicate, since Hermaeus Mora had killed him?

Even more gently than she'd done with Numinex, she healed him, then very cautiously restored his consciousness. She was apprehensive mostly because he'd wished Mora to deal with her as the Prince had with him, and she wasn't sure how he'd feel about her being free.

He seemed groggy when he "woke". You ... Last Dragonborn. You serve the Demon of Knowledge now, do you?

"I do not, and no one will again. You are the last he was able to enslave and torment." Yssha snorted, though she wasn't in dragon form.

He looked puzzled. "Oh? And what do you mean by that?"

"I have confined him to Apocrypha, and forbidden him to emerge to extract information from others. What he did to Storn was revolting."

"You ... could do that?" Miraak stared at her. "Then you are not only the foretold Last Dragonborn. You must be ... no, that isn't possible."

"It is, and I am. You reside within me now, but I will free you if you pledge not to harm me or others."

She sensed deep thought as Miraak considered her words. Then she got a very slow and thoughtful reply. "It was not you who defeated me, Last One. Hermaeus Mora ended my life, granting you my soul. That is not the dovah way."

"No, it is not. But it was the way things between us worked out, and both of us are ... special cases. Nor was our duel according to dovah custom. I had three helpers, and you killed and took the souls of three of our kindred to regenerate yourself. Shall we call it even?"

Miraak was silent for a long moment, then nodded. "Since there is no point in another battle between us, Last One, since I cannot win it, yes. You are in your full power now, and it is greater than mine. So what would you have me do?"

"You are Nord, so I suppose you could go to Sovngarde, though I have my doubts Tsun would admit you to the Hall or Valor. Or you could remain here, if you pledge, as I said, to harm none."

"Neither sounds particularly appealing. Is there no third choice?"

Yssha nodded. "I have a realm in Oblivion, called Sanctuary. It is uninhabited, though I and any I permit - like Sanguine and Malacath - may visit."

"That also sounds remarkably unattractive. Is there nothing else?"

Yssha frowned, her ears going back. "We have a saying that beggars cannot be choosers." She was going to continue that if nothing she had to offer would satisfy him, she could always banish him from existence, as she had the four Princes, when she sensed Jyggalag trying to get her attention.

"Join us," she invited, and the huge armored form appeared. She smiled at him. "You have a better idea, Prince?"

"I do indeed," the Lord of Order's deep voice replied. "You have named me head of the remaining Princes, which adds to my responsibilities, and this Miraak was ambitious to rule the isle of Solstheim. I would have him take on the day-to-day rule of the Shivering Isles, to free me from that task so I may pursue my other duties."

Yssha turned to Miraak, who was looking stunned. "Is that to your taste, Alliance Guide who guided alliances only to yourself?"

Miraak gave her a sardonic bow. "I believe it will do nicely." He turned to the armored figure. "I am at your service, Lord Jyggalag."

* * *

At home that evening, Yssha described what she'd been doing to her family, ending with, "So it seems I get my wish at last, my loves, to retire from adventuring to raise my children and perfect my crafting. I am happier than I have been since Dirsha was born."

"Oh, in a couple of weeks, then," Marcurio chuckled.


	43. Dirsha's Adventure I

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Chapter 43 - Dirsha's Adventures

5E 22

Dirsha sighed as he mounted Odahviing's neck to depart for the beginning of his adventuring year. He wasn't looking forward to it, but Mother's insistence on the family tradition - and, to a degree, his desire to prove he was capable of independence - had him resigned to it. Divines, not even his older brother, Freyr, had been able to avoid "adventuring" for a time.

Dirsha chuckled at that. His Nord adopted brother had known at the beginning of that year that he wasn't going to be an adventurer, at least in the normal sense of the word; he'd already known he wanted to be a multi-crafter, was already a skilled smith and alchemist, and had started learning enchanting. So instead of hunting bandits, draugr, and hostile wildlife - except when they interfered with his real goals - Freyr had concentrated on gathering rare alchemy reagents, learning advanced smithing techniques, and collecting soul gems.

If - and it was a big if - he could convince Odahviing to go along, he'd follow his own interests the same way. Though his interests were different, primarily history, they were just as likely as Freyr's to lead him into so-called adventure, especially in Hammerfell, where he'd chosen to go.

He was surprised when Odahviing banked right, instead of continuing the straight flight to Sentinel. He couldn't ask why, over the wind-roar of a dragon's flight, but he grinned as they approached the Direnni Tower on the Isle of Balfria in Iliac Bay, close to where High Reach and Hammerfell met. This was one of the most significant places in Nirn's history.

Odahviing backwinged to a landing, and Dirsha dismounted, turning to his friend. "Thanks, Odahviing. I never thought to stand here myself." He looked around, then sighed. "It looks ordinary, except for the round tower. Did the Divines really meet here to plan Mundus?"

"So it is said, but that is not something dovah can testify to. We were no more than wild animals, though immortal ones, until Alduin civilized us." Odahviing sighed heavily. "Which made his corruption more terrible when he succumbed to it. He raised us to the heights, then fell, and in his fall led us to the depths."

"Until Mother defeated him, and led you back up." Dirsha nodded, looking around. "I've read that this place was used as a fortress, a prison, and even a palace, but right now, it looks deserted. That's kind of hard to believe."

"Not really," Odahviing said, a bit smugly. "It is an important piece of history, and well within Skyguard patrol ranges from Skyrim, High Rock, and Hammerfell. When it looks like bandits or the like might be moving in, the Skyguard does as well, if necessary with Legion assistance. History is as important to us as it is to you, and we preserve its physical reminders as best we can."

A young Redguard woman emerged from a door to one of the buildings at the base of the central tower. "Welcome, visitor," she said with a smile. "I'm Rienna, one of the caretakers here. You would be Dirsha, Stormcrown's heir to Skyhold?"

"Yes." Dirsha's ears twitched. "How did you know?"

She chuckled. "You match the description the dovah give of you - dark brown, with dragonscale armor and a dragonbone sword and ebony mace - and you're with Odahviing." She turned to the dovah and bowed. "I am honored to meet you, Drog Odahviing."

Odahviing inclined his head. "The honor is mine, Miss Rienna. Since you are a caretaker here, is it possible for you to show Dirsha around the interior?"

"Certainly, if he wishes." She turned to the young Khajiit. "Very little of the interior decor is original, other than wall carvings, but the recreations are from contemporary drawings and paintings of the earliest times the Tower was known to have been in use."

"I would love to see it," Dirsha said enthusiastically. "If I weren't Mother's heir, I'd be working on a degree in ancient history at Winterhold University, trying to reconstruct what happened before the dovah became civilized."

"Let's go, then. You'll love it here." She led him into the building, and when they vanished inside, Odahviing snorted a soft laugh. Dirsha would be a conscientious ruler, but his heart would always be in the past. The boy had gotten his love of history from his father, but at least he hadn't also gotten a hatred of rule from his mother.

Odahviing settled, half-spreading his wings to the sun's warmth. This could take a while.

* * *

When the two re-emerged, still talking, Dirsha was carrying several books, not at all to Odahviing's surprise. As he stowed them in his pack and mounted, Rienna smiled at both Khajiit and dovah. "It was a pleasure showing you the Tower, Dirsha. It's too bad Odahviing is too large to take a tour."

"I have regretted my size many times since swearing to thuri Yssha," Odahviing said calmly. Mostly because he'd been unable to go into dungeons with her, to protect his thur as was proper. "But knowing Dirsha, those books will contain numerous illustrations, and he will share them with us."

"Of course I will." Dirsha turned his attention to Rienne. "If you get to Sentinel while I'm there, stop by - I'll take you out for dinner, in return for your courtesy."

"I'd like that. Perhaps later, then." She returned to her duties, and Odahviing lifted off for the capital of Sentinel. He circled the city to give Dirsha a good view, then landed at the far end of the causeway.

Dirsha had seen paintings, of course, and knew Sentinel had nothing in common with Skyrim cities except for a causeway similar to Windhelm's, but the golden domes and wide spaces between buildings were totally different, and he wanted to see more. He slid down Odahviing's shoulder to the sand, then cat-grinned up at his friend. "You've delivered me safely, my friend, and I'm not supposed to call you unless I'm in danger I can't handle. So you might as well rejoin Monah.[Mother]"

"Geh. Enjoy your adventuring year as much as you can, fahdoni. I might recommend the Sentinel Royal Library and any yokudan ruins you might find in that time. If you do not call me, I will return only when your year is over."

"I know ... but I'll miss you, fahdoni. Be well!" Dirsha watched as his friend leaped into the air and took wing, heading back for Skyrim. Then he turned, and strode across the causeway toward the city. There were no gates, just a beautifully carved archway, but it did have a pair of guards, who wanted him to identify himself and state his business.

"I am Dirsha, of Family Marcurio within Clan Ysshaya, heir to Skyhold in Skyrim. I'm on my adventuring year, and I'd like to find a guide to Mother's home here, if that's possible."

"Quite possible, my Lord," one of the guards replied. He used a whistle to summon a third guard from further into the city. "Khafiz, take Lord Dirsha to Stormcrown's home."

"Not 'Lord,' please," Dirsha said. "This isn't Skyrim; here, I'm just an ordinary citizen."

"As you wish, then," the first guard agreed. "It'll probably get used anyway, though, with everyone knowing Stormcrown's heir is solid brown, and that armor."

Dirsha shrugged. "Would it help if I changed the armor? I'm sure Mother has several sets at home."

His escort chuckled, guiding him down a wide road shaded by palm and fig trees. "You could try, but I don't know how much good it'll do. She's well-liked here, and her family's pretty well known. Freyr's armor and weapons are almost as good a status symbol as those made by Stormcrown herself."

Dirsha purred. "I'll be sure to tell him, when I get home. He does take pride in his work."

"What of your sisters and younger brother? Rumor has it that Fayna, the younger girl, is studying for the priesthood?"

"Not exactly," Dirsha said. "In a way, though, since she's studying the Way of the Voice with the Greybeards, and Paarthurnax says that she has some talent for it, even though she's not Dragonborn."

"Really? Excellent ... maybe she can replace Master Borri, the Nine rest his soul."

"Mother says he's happy and doing well in Stormhaven. He found a mountain lake and built a nice little hermitage."

Khafiz smiled. "Good. Is Kazdi still at the Mage's College?"

"Uh-huh. She inherited Grams' and Father's magica, so naturally she's trying to surpass both of them in every School. She might just do it, too - I could almost feel sorry for any necromancers she goes against, when she gets to her adventuring year. She has a serious hatred for them, for some reason."

"She'd be welcome here, then - we've been having an epidemic of the barstids here, the last couple of years. A powerful mage with a grudge ... well, she could probably name her own price. What about Ahiru?"

"Still at the run-and-play stage, where he loves to sneak up and pounce on your tail, if you have one. Uncle Nevan's going to be starting him on weapons work in a few months, I think. And hope! It's kind of hard to maintain dignity representing Mother when my tail suddenly gets pounced on or bitten."

His escort laughed, then pointed him toward a large building with a gold dome overlooking a flat roof. "Here we are. I need to return to my post now, but it's been nice chatting with you."

"And with you." Dirsha watched him leave, then found the bell-pull beside the door, and tugged it.

Moments later, the door opened to reveal a female Orsimer, who smiled at him. "Master Dirsha - you made it. Come in, I'll show you your suite. I'm Umar gra-Yarug, the steward here. And your ... what's the Skyrim term? Oh, yeah. Housecarl, if you want one while you're here."

"If you mean follow me, fight with me, and carry my burdens ... " Dirsha thought for a bit, then nodded. "If that also includes giving advice about local conditions, yes, definitely."

He followed her inside as she replied. "Of course it does. What do you want to know?"

"I understand most of the intelligent dangers here are similar to the ones I'm used to from Skyrim - bandits, necromancers, and the like, and they're mostly in the near-coastal areas. It's the desert I've only read about that I hope you can give me a few pointers on."

"Well, you know we don't have things that are adapted to cold, like your ice trolls and frostbite spiders. Instead, we have things like giant scorpions and assassin beetles. Where Skyrim has hagravens, Hammerfell has harpies - better looking, but still with wings and talons. They kidnap, mate with, and then kill human males, but I've never heard of them taking on Khajiit, Argonians, or Orsimer, so you should be safe from them. Is there any particular sort of adventure you're looking for here?"

Dirsha grimaced. "Truly? Only what I can't avoid while I learn as much as I can about Hammerfell's history, especially the Yokudan parts. It's not like I'll be able to do much if any adventuring when I get home, much less make a living at it." He sighed. "If it weren't family tradition, I'd have tried to get out of it. I'd get more useful experience acting as Mother's stand-in for a year."

Umar chuckled. "Then your best bet is to check with the archaeology department at King's University. They're usually willing to take on assistants with an interest in history and the ability to be careful with evidence. Being able to fight is a bonus, as is at least some mage ability."

"Well, I learned how to treat evidence during my training with the Hold Guard, and I can certainly fight. My mage ability's not up to Kazdi's level, or even Father's, but I do know several novice and apprentice level spells, even a couple of adept-level. Can we go there tomorrow, and see if anyone's willing to let me tag along?"

"Certainly. Now, what for the rest of the day?"

"Lunch, then if you'd show me around the city, I'd appreciate it. And I suppose I should schedule a courtesy call on the King, even though I'm only the heir to a minor Hold."

"Already done - your mother had me set it up shortly after you decided to come here. You'll be having lunch with the Royal Family tomorrow. And the Heiress wants you to wear your armor." Umar chuckled. "I'm afraid Her Grace is something of a romantic."

* * *

Dirsha was a little nervous when he entered the King's University Archeology building. He told the receptionist his business, and she smiled. "You're in luck, young man. Professor Isolde is here on a recruiting trip for her dig at a Yokudan ruin not too far from Taneth. Her office is on the top floor, third on the right at the top of the stairs."

"Thank you." Dirsha followed directions, knocking on a door with Professor Isolde's name on it.

"Enter," a pleasant voice called. When Dirsha did so and bowed politely, the woman behind the desk rose and returned it, then re-seated herself and waved him to a chair beside her desk.

He waited while she studied him, doing the same to her. She was a middle-aged lady, probably an aristocrat, her black hair going gray in places, but otherwise young-looking, though her skin showed she spent a lot of time outside. Then she leaned forward, steepling her fingers. "And what does the heir to Skyhold wish of me?"

"If you recognize me, you probably know of my fascination with history," Dirsha replied calmly. "I'd like to join your dig team. I know how to handle evidence, I'm combat-trained, and I have some useful mage spells." He paused, then remembered some things he'd heard at Winterhold University, and added, "You don't have to pay me; I'd do it happily, just for the experience."

The professor laughed. "You're in. I hope you're not afraid of giant scorpions; we've been running into quite a few."

"I've never run into any," Dirsha admitted. "But if you have a book, or can give me some information about them, it would help. I have fought frostbite spiders, draugr, bandits, and a couple of trolls, so if I can learn their vulnerabilities and methods of attack, it would help."

"Done." Professor Isolde went to her bookcase, returning with a thin book. "Here's what we know about them. If you can kill one without too much damage, then get someone to preserve the body, it would be nice to bring it back here so the biologists can add to our knowledge."

Dirsha took the book. "I'll have this back to you tomorrow - and I'll try. Thank you for the opportunity!"

"My pleasure, young man. I'll send word as soon as I have the others I need. How long will you need from that to be ready to travel?"

"If all I need to take is armor, weapons, and a couple of changes of clothing, no more than an hour. If I have to carry camping gear and food, maybe four hours at most."

"An hour, then. Good. Everything else will be provided."


	44. Dirsha's Adventure II

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Chapter 44 - Dirsha's Adventures II

By his third day at the Yokuda dig, Dirsha was settling in very nicely. He and the two Alik'r warriors who were the expedition's other guards had taken on and defeated a nest of giant scorpions, then he'd been assigned to help the diggers, and proven his skill at extracting and documenting even the smallest of artifacts. He was enjoying himself thoroughly when Professor Isolde entered the room where he was working. He looked up from the fragment of metal he was cataloging, and smiled at her. "Hello, Isolde. Have something for me?"

"Yep. We've found an odd Nordic-looking door down on sub-3, and Nordic ruins paired with Yokudan are anomalous. I'd like you to armor up and join the entry team. You've fought draugr, which none of the rest have. And it may be something else, as well."

Dirsha sighed, then straightened his worktable and stood. "Give me ... hmm. Fifteen minutes to get my gear and get down there."

As promised, he was armored and had his weapons fifteen minutes later when he joined the team, three levels below ground, that was preparing to go through a - Divines, a dragon-claw door? What in Oblivion was a Nordic puzzle door doing at the bottom of a Yokudan ruin?

He shuddered at that. "Researchers, out, please. And if we have any other fighters available, send them down. Who has the claw?"

"Why evacuate?" one asked, as another held up a claw carved from - malachite, it looked like.

"Because whatever's behind one of these doors is usually quite valuable, so it's also usually guarded by something strong and nasty," Dirsha replied. "And yes, that looks like the claw, which is actually a key to the puzzle door. If I may have it, please?"

He accepted it, inspecting the palm and the door, then nodded. The symbols matched, so this was the proper key. He hid a sigh, wishing Mother were here. He knew the theory, and she'd shared the tales of her experiences with these doors and what they could hide, but he'd never been in on the opening of a new one. Oblivion, no new ones had even been found in years!

The scholars left, reluctantly, except for one who'd had some combat training, and the two of them waited for the other fighters to arrive. Dirsha was glad to see they included Umar and a pair of Alik'r warriors the two of them had been training with.

"All right, there are five of us against whatever's in there," he said. "I know how to use the key, and I have the best armor, so I go in first. The guardians could be anything from a whole lot of low-level draugr to Death Overlords, or if the Divines aren't paying attention, even a Dragon Priest, since Mother only eliminated those in Skyrim and on Solstheim. What we'll find beyond that, I have absolutely no idea."

Once everyone was ready, Dirsha set the rings as indicated on the claw, then inserted it into the central circle and turned it. He put it away as the door scraped its way down, readying his mace and Heal Wounds spell. When he stepped through the doorway and started down a narrow passageway, though, he was surprised to find himself unopposed. Then, to his astonishment, he heard the door's grinding sound again, and turned to find it sliding back up. He followed the rest back toward it, but it was too far; the door was closed by the time the first one reached it.

"Huh, I never heard of anything like that happening," he said, then shrugged.

"What do we do now?" Umar asked.

"What we came for," Dirsha replied. There were Dwemer lamps on either side of the doorway, so he looked around. This side of the door was featureless. He'd been rather hoping for a way to open it from this side, but all he said was, "It isn't really a problem. I know the teleport spell my greats-grandmother developed, and even though I can't go far, I can definitely 'port to the other side and open it again. So let's go." He went into stealth mode and began moving forward along a corridor lit by unfamiliar glowing fungi, supplemented about a hundred yards ahead by another Dwemer lamp. After ten or twelve steps, though, he sighed and gave up on sneaking, since his companions sounded to his sensitive ears like a herd of stampeding cattle.

The passageway sloped generally downward, until he heard the sound of running water, and signaled the rest to stop. "Wait here - there's something I need to check out, quietly."

They nodded, and he went into stealth mode again, cautiously approaching the water sound. If there hadn't been any danger at the entrance, other than it closing behind them, near water was the most likely. He sniffed, but didn't smell anything other than the water itself and wet stone, so he continued, using any available concealment.

When he found the water, it was a respectable river, running through limestone walls, with only a small bank of sandy mud on one side. He followed the river downstream for a quarter hour or so, veering away every so often to investigate something the Dwemer lamps illuminated, but aside from a few interesting rock formations he hadn't seen in Skyrim, he found nothing.

He was almost ready to turn back when he came across a path leading from an attractive yellowish crystal formation toward the river in one direction, and deeper into the cavern in another. He followed the one toward the river, deciding to get the rest before going any deeper.

He got a shock when he neared the river and saw a hut with a small dock, and what looked like a fishing net running half-way across the river. That meant intelligent life still existed here, and the Dwemer lights weren't simply relics of that vanished race - or if they were, someone else was still using them. The new users weren't Falmer; the hut was worked stone, not chaurus chitin, and as far as he knew, Falmer didn't know how to either work stone or catch fish.

He made the best time he could back to the rest, and briefed them on what he'd found. "The cave changes about five hundred feet in. The glowing fungus tapers off, but the Dwemer lamps continue; the lighting's more than adequate. After what I guess you could call this rough-stone entryway, the place opens up into a very large cavern with formations I never saw in Skyrim or Solstheim. Spikes hanging from the ceiling or growing from the floor, sometimes forming columns. Clusters of crystals, tiny hollow stone tubes, what looked like a waterfall made out of stone, even some rocks that look almost like pearls. Really odd, but beautiful."

The researcher, Karrod, chuckled. "Those are limestone formations, mostly. Stalactites and stalagmites for the two types of spikes, and yes, they sometimes grow together into columns. The pipes, for some reason, are called soda straws, and the pearl-like things are cave pearls. Typical features of a limestone cave - and no, I don't think those exist in Skyrim."

"Anything else?" Umar asked. "What about the hostiles you warned us about?"

"No trace." Dirsha hesitated. "Or at least not yet. I did find paths, a stone hut, and a fish trap just before I turned back, though. I think we need to keep going until we find something definitive. That puzzle door wasn't put there for nothing, and considering this side is bare, it was primarily to keep something inside from getting out, rather than to keep outsiders from getting in. So that tells me there's something extremely dangerous here, even though we haven't found it yet."

Umar and the others nodded. "That makes sense," she said. "Why don't you lead, in stealth mode, and we'll stay a couple of hundred feet back, so we don't betray you?"

"That sounds reasonable," Dirsha agreed, and began the trip back to the stone shack. He followed the path back to the intersection, un-stealthed long enough to indicate to those following him that he was going right, then re-stealthed and kept going.

About a quarter hour later, he saw a brighter area off to his right, and veered toward it. He caught his breath when he got close enough to make out what was being lit up, and recognized a large number of hydroponics tanks, lit by full-spectrum Dwemer lamps. A hydroponic farm, in Hammerfell? That was a major surprise, and no hostiles he knew of had the ability to set that sort of thing up, so he un-stealthed and approached, if cautiously.

One of the people working over a tank apparently heard him and straightened, turning to face him, and he got another shock. "Odmer? Here? I thought you were all in Skyrim?"

The woman looked at him curiously. "What is an Odmer, young one? We are Falmer. And what are you doing in the Sacred Caverns? How did you get past the Barrier?"

Dirsha held up empty hands and bowed. "I'm Dirsha, of Family Marcurio in Clan Ysshaya, and Odmer are Falmer my mother restored from their betrayal and degradation by the Dwemer, thousands of years ago."

The woman cocked her head, giving him a puzzled grin. "What you say is well beyond my knowledge, young Khajiit. Will you go with me to our high priest?"

"If that's your leader, gladly. But I have others following me; I should let them know things are safe."

"Go ahead. Then I will guide you to the High Temple."

Dirsha returned to the path, and waved the others forward. "It seems we have Snow Elves here, but the one I spoke to apparently doesn't know much history, and wants to take me to their High Priest. I've encountered no hostility, so it's probably safe enough for me to go with her. Umar, you can come along if you wish, but the rest of you should probably go back to the entrance."

They agreed , Umar accompanying him back to the hydroponics area as the rest headed back up the path.

* * *

The High Temple was a huge cavern with a massive statue of Auri-El at the far end, towering above an altar, with clergy moving around. The guide caught one's attention, and asked to have the High Priest notified of visitors.

The acolyte agreed, and a few minutes later an obvious senior cleric - by his bearing; his clothing was a simple robe in Akatosh's flame-like yellow, orange and red - approached them and smiled. "Welcome. I am Angalmo, High Priest of Auri-El in the Final Sanctuary. His blessings on you both."

Dirsha bowed. "We thank you, Holy one. I am Dirsha of Family Marcurio in Clan Ysshaya, and my companion is my acting housecarl, Umar gra-Yarug. The lady who guided us here told me you are Falmer?"

"Yes, my son. That surprises you?"

"Yes, sir. In Skyrim, where I'm from, only two Snow elves survived the Dwemer Betrayal. The rest became - excuse the description - a physically and mentally warped remnant we know as Falmer hostile to every other race. In Skyrim, the only surviving Snow Elf now is Jarl Gelebor of Blackreach. My mother Restores other Falmer as they're found, and they've taken Odmer as the name for the Restored ones."

"Ahhh." The High Priest returned Dirsha's bow. "Then your mother deserves our thanks and reverence. Will you give us her name, that we may honor her?"

Dirsha chuckled. "Which one? She was born Yssha of Ysshaya and Dovahkiin, renamed Stormcrown and Ysmir by the Greybeards. She goes by all of those, as well as any number of additional titles I'll recite if you want."

The High Priest smiled. "'Dovahkiin' will do, grandson of Auri-El. Like other priests, I was told of her victory over the Destroyer Alduin, and she has been praised as such ever since. But the rest of what you say ... we were unaware of. The outer world has been a mystery to us since the Barrier was established. How did you get through it?"

"The Barrier?" He must mean the Nordic puzzle door, Dirsha thought. "We have a lot of those in Skyrim. They're easy if you have the key, but I've never heard of one that closed itself after being used. They normally protect something extremely valuable that's guarded by something - or some things - extremely dangerous. This cavern complex is certainly valuable, but we haven't encountered anything dangerous. At least not yet."

"Nor are you likely to," the priest said. "The Final Sanctuary is quite tame. Oh, there are occasional wild animals, though we have no idea how they get in, but ... otherwise, nothing. As you can see, we are a peaceful religious community."

Dirsha nodded. This place had the same feel as the Chantry in Forgotten Vale - even the statue of Auri-El was similar, though a slightly different style. An older one, if the Dwemer Betrayal was included in the things the Falmer here didn't know about.

And that was something he should find out. "How far back does your history go, here?"

Angalmo frowned slightly. "To waves of Nords invading from Atmora, when some of our brethren began negotiating with the Dwemer for a place to retreat to. Our ancestors didn't trust the Deep Elves, so instead of joining those negotiations, they fled the welcoming snows for the heat of the west and south, thinking to find a refuge from both. I won't go into detail at the moment, but their terrible struggles with heat, aridity, Dwemer, and Yokudans are chronicled in detail in the Temple Library.

"At any rate, our ancestors stumbled - literally, according to records from those days - into this cave, and found its coolness and beauty welcoming. They settled in, then found the Yokudans building a village, then a town, at its entrance. They began exploring the cave, which by then we had begun converting to a temple."

He shrugged. "There were clashes, of course, and though we were a religious order, I fear we did retaliate against their intrusions. Then one day, following a Yokudan raid deep inside, our counter-raiders found the Barrier, and we have been isolated - to our relief, actually - ever since."

Dirsha smiled. "Both Mother and Jarl Gelebor would love to come here, I'm sure. If you permit, of course," he added hastily, as the High Priest began to look apprehensive. "Gelebor was a Knight-Paladin at the Chantry of Auri-El, and you know who Mother is ... neither would permit harm to come to you here."

"Then ... they would be welome. If you can return through the Barrier."

"That isn't a problem. We can probably get to the other side even from here."


	45. Succession

.

Chapter 45 - Succession

Dirsha teleported himself and Umar to the far side of the Nordic puzzle door, then opened it so the other three could rejoin them. "You three might as well go back to your jobs, while I report to Professor Isolde. Karrod, would you reassure the researchers, please? Tell them there's no danger, but the door must remain sealed until Stormcrown and perhaps Jarl Gelebor say otherwise."

"Understood, and I'll pass it along. May we return to our researches on this side?"

"I see no reason why not," Dirsha replied.

When they left, Dirsha and Umar went up to the top floor and found the expedition leader, who looked at them curiously. "what did you find?"

"A religious community of Snow Elves," Dirsha told her. "I've told the researchers they're safe to go back to work, but this is definitely something I need Mother to come look at and make any decisions on, beyond that."

Isolde looked at him dubiously, then grinned. "Very well, my Lord. Go ahead and do whatever you need to do to get her here."

Dirsha wasn't sure if she were teasing him or not, so he took her at her word. "I'll be outside, then."

* * *

By the time they were outside and far enough away from the ruins that there was room for a dovah to land, Dirsha had decided his command of Voice wasn't enough to call his mother himself without alarming her, so it was Odahviing he called.

The red dovah landed moments later, in a flurry of sand that had Dirsha dusting himself off and coughing. "I see no danger, fahdoni," Odahviing rumbled. "Why did you summon me, then?"

"Because I need Monahi here, and if I Shout for her, she's going to assume I'm in danger, like you did. But I need her for an Imperial decision having to do with original Snow Elves, and she might want to bring Jarl Gelebor as well."

"Hmm." Odahviing settled into the sand, looking thoughtful. "Tell me about it, kiir do thuri."

Dirsha did so, going into every detail he could remember, dragon-fashion. "And so I decided I had to call on someone more qualified," he concluded.

"A wise decision," Odahviing said. "Your ability to Call is too limited for that. Even a dovah should visit, for something so difficult to explain. I will do so, or I will take you to her so you may."

Dirsha's ear-tips heated. "Uh, I'm really not supposed to call for help during my adventuring year, but since I have to ... would you really mind doing it for me?"

Odahviing gape-grinned. "Child of our Overlord, it is my pleasure to serve. I will convey this to your monah, and bring her reply. If she does not choose to bring it herself."

* * *

He was beginning to worry when he heard wingbeats of multiple dovahhe, and looked up to see his mother, Odahviing, and three others coming in to land. Mother was carrying Father and Jarl Gelebor, which explained the delay, as he'd hoped; he'd had to come up from Blackreach. As soon as Father and the Jarl dismounted, Mother shifted to her Khajiit form. Dirsha had asked for her in her official capacity, so he bowed. "Thank you for coming, Strundu'ul. And Jarl Gelebor."

They returned the bow, then Yssha cocked her head at her firstborn. "Odahviing tells me you discovered a group of Falmer that escaped both the Nords and the Dwemer."

"Yes, Majesty. And living in the most marvelous cavern I've ever seen. It's incredible, huge and beautiful!"

Yssha chuckled at her son's enthusiasm. "And you think the Empire should do something about one or both, am I correct?"

"Yes, ma'am. May I show you? And Jarl Gelebor and Father?"

"Please do, then. I suppose I should pay my respects to the expedition leader first, though."

Once that was done, Dirsha led his parents and the Jarl of Blackreach down to the Nordic puzzle door and opened it for them, then followed them inside. "This part runs about five hundred feet, then it turns into the marvelous cave I mentioned."

"This was your discovery, son," Yssha said. "You should lead us, then - as much as possible, your original route."

"Yes, ma'am." Dirsha took the lead, to the river and along it to the hut,dock, and fishing net that had told him it wasn't Falmer. "I was wrong, of course ... but at least it wasn't the Falmer we know in Skyrim. It was escaped Snow Elves - but that was what I thought at the time."

He led them further, along the path to where he'd noticed the hydro-farm. "From here, I had a guide, to the High Temple, but it's easy enough to find once you've been there."

They weren't making any effort to be quiet, so Dirsha wasn't surprised to be met by High Priest Angalmo. He bowed, then introduced the High Priest to the rest, and stepped back to listen.

Angalmo bowed. "You do us great honor, Dovahkiin. How may we serve you?"

Yssha smiled."I believe it is more the other way around. Dirsha tells me you have no objections to living here, as isolated as you are, but when knowledge of your existence becomes known - and that of this beautiful cavern - you may not be able to keep either, without my intervention as Stormcrown. Which I believe is why my son called me in."

The High Priest winced. "Your son was wise beyond his years, then, because we do wish to keep our privacy, and keep our home unsullied. We believe this place to be a gift from Auri-El Himself, and to see it desecrated would be horrifying."

"As Stormcrown, I can do that," Yssha said. "I can make you an Imperial Protectorate, which would give you access to the outside world but keep out anyone you wish to forbid, or a Reserve, which would keep you fully isolated. Either could be changed later to a more inclusive status, should you change your minds. But you cannot go from greater access to lesser."

"Is there a status that would allow us to forbid individuals until we can investigate them for ... how do I put this - those who will not damage what Auri-El has given us? We have seen what some humans and other elves do to unprotected spaces. Perhaps something like a Reserve, but with special permissions from yourself for those you believe would be beneficial for us to meet, but still forbid anyone else?"

Yssha nodded. "I can do that. With your permission already granted, I name this ... ah, Cavern of Auri-El - unless you prefer another name - ?"

"That is most suitable, Dovahkiin," Angalmo replied. "And your decision?"

"That the Cavern of Auri-El becomes a personal Protectorate of the Stormcrown. So you are isolated, except for those I personally authorize to enter, or those you authorize to leave. Is that suitable?"

"Most suitable, Dovahkiin - and we all thank you. We value our privacy, and the restriction is welcome. You and yours will always be welcome, of course."

Dirsha thought for a moment, then cleared his throat softly.

Yssha turned, to him, grinning. "Yes?"

"Ah ... if you and Priest Angalmo wouldn't mind." He hesitated. "I ... ah, I think I'd like to spend the rest of my adventuring year exploring the Cavern of Auri-El, when I'm not needed for the excavation."

Yssha chuckled to herself, knowing that Marcurio shared her amusement. "Neither of those sounds particularly adventurous, son."

"Not in the killing bandits and monsters for bounties or loot sense, maybe," Dirsha admitted, "but I've done those, as part of my training. And for me, both archeology and geology _are_ adventures, just mental rather than physical ones."

Angalmo smiled. "I have no objections, young Khajiit. But if you encounter intruders, you may have to fight ... not bandits, I don't think, but occasional giant insects from the desert, and perhaps the occasional jackal or crocodile. Harpies don't go underground, so you won't encounter them. But you're also unlikely to encounter loot, and we don't offer bounties."

Dirsha shrugged. "I don't need those. My family's one of the richest in the Empire, and I'm Mother's heir. What's valuable to me is the opportunity to learn and explore before I have to take up my responsibilities as Jarl of Skyhold."

"Then be welcome, Dirsha. And I hope you find much satisfaction in your year with us."

* * *

Dirsha remembered those words as he was packing to return to Skyhold. He'd found a lot of satisfaction in both the excavation and his exploration of the Cavern, extending the maps of it as he found new areas, sometimes at the cost of broken bones or less serious injuries. He'd already said his goodbyes to everyone by the time he hauled his packs outside and called Odahviing.

When the red dovah landed, he ducked his head to his thur's first offspring. "You are ready to return, then, fahdoni?"

Dirsha sighed. "Ready? No - I could happily spend the rest of my life here. But I have a job to do at home, and Mother ... well, she's never liked being Jarl, and it doesn't really bother me. And I do have a lot of happy memories of this year."

"You will tell them to a Bard, please, that we may share them with you in song?"

Dirsha snorted. "Only if I can find one that won't embellish them. They were interesting, and sometimes dangerous, but nothing at all heroic. But I'll give you the straight story myself, if that wouldn't be too boring."

"Yes, you will tell me, as time allows, and I do not expect to be bored. Mount, and let us take you back home."

* * *

Dirsha enjoyed his return home more than he'd really expected. Showing off his collection of artifacts and limestone samples took hours, while he explained where and how he'd gotten each of them. When that tapered off, his mother took him aside, into her private office. "Was it really that nice?" she asked.

Dirsha nodded. "Every bit ... and maybe more so. I didn't want to make it look too good for the others."

"And you want more adventuring?"

"That kind? Of course I do. But I know it's not possible, and I also know you want to turn Skyhold over as soon as you can, so you can move to Skuldafn." Dirsha shrugged. "So do it, Mother. I don't hate the idea of ruling as much as you did - I was raised for it, after all - and I'd love to see you happy."

Yssha's heart caught at her son's words. "Are you serious? I can ... give you as much time as you want." She was immortal, so that was true, but Dirsha's desire for her happiness was almost more than she could stand.

"Of course I am. I'll still get to visit and follow the research, even if I can't take part in it myself, so ... yes, go ahead."

Yssha embraced her son, licking his forehead. "You are ... Dirsha, you are more generous than I deserve. But I accept, and thank you more than you may be able to realize."

"I think I can guess," Dirsha said. "I've watched you do something you really dislike, ever since I could understand what you were doing and that you _did_ dislike it. Yet you were able to raise me to do that job, and I hope do it well, and get some enjoyment out of it." He licked her cheek, accepting her return caress. Then he grinned. "So set it up as soon as you can, okay? Let's set you free to be the dragon you were born to be."

* * *

That happened five days later, the earliest High King Balgruuf could be there to officiate. By that time, Yssha had transferred the original Greater Mirmulnir Throne - and most of her and Marcuio's personal possessions - to Skuldafn; the throne in the pavilion now was an exact duplicate, save for Dragonbane in its jaw, but had never been part of a living dragon.

The ceremony began with Balgruuf approaching Yssha, who was sitting on the throne in her plain "working" armor, the only ceremonial gear her Jarl's circlet. He bowed, and she rose to return it, then he spoke. "I have been given to understand that Your Grace wishes to step down from your position as Jarl of Skyhold in favor of your eldest biological son."

"That is correct, Your Highness. With Your Highness' permission, of course. I am firmly convinced that Lord Dirsha is properly trained and suitable for rule, and I petition that he be allowed to replace me."

Balgruuf nodded. "You have carried out your responsibilities as Jarl of the ground part of Skyhold admirably for over twenty years, and for that I am inclined to grant your petition. But Skyhold also includes the air over all of Nirn, and that the High King of Skyrim has no jurisdiction over. Will you retain that part?"

"I must," Yssha replied. "My authority there is as Overlord of Dov, their Dovahjud, which I cannot simply hand over. I ask only to be replaced as Jarl of the ground part."

"Then I may grant your petition." Balgruuf smiled, holding out his hands. "If you would, then, Ysmir?"

"Gladly." Yssha removed her circlet and handed it to Balgruuf, then moved to one side, her part in the ceremony done. Balgruuf had wanted her to make a speech, but she had absolutely refused, and he'd finally agreed that might be just as well.

Balgruuf took the throne, and called Dirsha forward. "Your mother has abdicated, and wishes you to become Jarl in her place. How say you, Lord Dirsha?"

Dirsha went to one knee. "I would be honored, my King. I may never be her equal, but I will do my best to honor her and serve her people as a Jarl should."

Balgruuf leaned forward and placed the circlet on Dirsha's head. "Then rise, Jarl Dirsha, and take your throne." He moved aside to allow the younger Khajiit to do so, then stepped aside himself.

Dirsha seated himself briefly, then rose. He didn't particularly like public speaking, but Mother had taught him it was important, and found him tutors in how to do it. So he smiled at his audience, anyone in Skyhold who could get there.

"This is still the place my mother ruled, and I will change none of her policies without urgent need. But I declare this day one of celebration on her behalf, that she is now able to fly free as the dragon she has always been."

He was going to continue, but the audience began chanting, "Dovahkiin! Dovahkiin! Dovahkiin!"

* * *

Epilogue

The move to Skuldafn didn't change Yssha's life as much as she'd thought it might, though with the exterior designed for dovah, she did tend to spend most of her time during the day outside in her dovah shape, basking in the rear courtyard, if it was sunny. She did sky-dance every day or so, usually with Odahviing and whoever else happened to be nearby.

Skuldafn bore little resemblance to what it had been the first time she and Marcurio had been there. Between repairs, cleaning, and Ragnar's additions, only the central temple area was similar, and even there, parts had been remodeled, to turn it from a temple into a palace. The whole thing had grown into a complex that could almost be called a city, while remaining accessible only by dragon. She might have the Mzulft access restored some century, but she had plenty of time to decide on that.

Otherwise she spent the first few years there simply enjoying life with Marcurio and Seridur, who'd become good friends in the intervening two decades. Dirsha's marriage a few months after he'd become Jarl was the first time she left - he'd asked her to officiate as Stormcrown, and it was the first time, at least since the Dragon Wars, that a Skyrim wedding had been conducted in Dovahzul, or by a dovah. The next time was for the Presentation of her first grandchild.

There were occasional visits for other large events in her family's life, but nothing that disturbed her until Fusmulgar reported Balgruuf's death from a sudden heart problem. Her first friend in Skyrim ... and his heir wanted her to conduct the funeral. She sent word that she would, and two days later did so. Later that day, she took advantage of her ability to visit Aetherius, and went to Sovngarde, almost certain he would go there. Tsun greeted her with a smile, and waved her over to where he greeted and tested the newly dead. "Welcome, Dovahkiin. I regret you'll never be here permanently; we could have some munumental bouts."

"We could indeed," she replied with a grin. "But other responsibilities call me. Still, if you would like to spar for a bit, I am willing."

He returned the grin. "I know you're worthy, but such exercise is always pleasant." He unlimbered his battle-axe, and she drew her mace. They traded Shouts, his Unrelenting Force against her Disarm, and he yielded with a laugh. "You are too strong for me, Dovahkiin. Which I have known. We'll have to do this again, with neither of us using Shouts."

"Then it would be too easy for you, if I remain in Khajiit form. An oversized Nord, against a small Khajiit?"

"A good point," the big warrior said. "Perhaps no Voice, but you can use magic?"

"That sounds fair enough. Next time, then. I am looking for Balgruuf the Greater."

"He is within. It was a good battle, with him in his prime."

"Thank you." Yssha was glad to hear it, since after seeing Balgruuf during the Battle for Whiterun, she'd been impressed with his skills in ... what, late forties or early fifties? So late sixties or early seventies at his death. And what must he have been like in his youth, twenties or thirties? Most impressive, she was certain.

She entered the Hall of Valor, smiling when Ysgramor greeted her, then hailed the three Tongues she'd fought beside against Alduin, who hailed her enthusiastically. "It's good to see you again, Dovahkiin," Gormlaith said. "Are you here for any special reason, or just a general visit?"

"A bit of both," Yssha replied. "My first friend in Skyrim died suddenly, and I wish to speak to him, then visit other friends for a time."

"And your friend is?" Hakon asked.

"High King Balgruuf the Greater."

"Ah, yes." Hakon chuckled. "You'll find him at the high table, with Torygg and Ulfric Stormcloak."

"Thank you." Yssha walked to the table on the highest dais, smiling as Balgruuf, his apparent age no more than twenty, rose to greet her, and Ulfric, at the same apparent age, joined him.

"Ysmir!" Balgruuf exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Assassinated again?"

Yssha chuckled, shaking her head. "No, simply exercising a prerogative of mine, to visit anywhere in Aetherius or Oblivion at my pleasure. I did not get to say my farewells while you lived, so I simply came to wish you a pleasant eternity."

"I appreciate that, but I'm not sure it's possible to be otherwise, in Sovngarde. Honestly, I don't know how you were able to return, even once - but then I doubt I'd have dared face Alduin, either."

"You underestimate yourself, my friend," Yssha said gently. "You, and any of those who could win entrance to this hall, would be capable of doing the same. You wouldn't have won, since defeating him required a Dragonborn, but you would have done your absolute best."

Balgruuf chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I would've. Will I see you again?"

"Very likely. I spend most of my time on Nirn, but when I get bored, I tend to roam the rest of Mundus, including Oblivion and Aetherius. Nirn, though, is huge and mostly unexplored - for now - and vodov creativity can be fascinating."

"Do I gather correctly that you plan to do at least some of that exploring?"

"You do indeed, my friend." Yssha smiled. "In fact, I'll probably start fairly shortly, with so little known of Atmora's current state or possible inhabitants. Then there's Pyandonea, and that's as far as anyone's gone, less than a quarter of the way around the globe. I'm sure there's far more, further out."

Balgruuf chuckled again. "Then go explore, and bring your discoveries home to educate those you leave behind."

"My plans exactly, once I'm no longer expected to take a routine part in Imperial or family affairs."

* * *

It was almost a century before that came to pass. She wasn't forgotten, exactly, but she was no longer routinely invited to ceremonial things, and no one seemed to care when she didn't bother to show up without the invitation. She had accompanied Marcurio to Stormhaven when he died - rather to his surprise, peacefully in his sleep, which she'd teased him about afterward. Then he'd shooed her away, with orders to give him at least fifty years to get a surprise ready for her.

That promise made, she returned to Nirn, to find Andreius and Sorcalin and begin their first overall exploration - finding any other major land-masses. More detailed exploration could wait, and would be as eternal as she, Andreius, and the dragons, since changes would continue through the ages.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** And so ends Yssha's Tale, though she, of course, continues. There will be another tale coming, but set in an alternate universe. I'm not sure just yet when it will actually appear, but I promise that it's coming.

Ignore the following; it's a test of what special characters I can post, for use in the next story.

*asterisk* }curly{ [square] +plus+ =equal= ~tilde~ ***


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